


Everything will be okay

by Maers_Maenn



Category: Gangsta. (Manga)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-04-13 04:20:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 62,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4507545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maers_Maenn/pseuds/Maers_Maenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series of various one shots I am writing as the inspiration strikes. There is a little bit of everything and multiple characters that show up in them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Everything Will Be Okay

**Author's Note:**

> God I suck at summaries...  
> This fic is set during the Twilight Hunts mentioned a few times in the Manga which were apparently 15 years prior to the present events in the manga/anime. Doing the math, during that time Nic would be 19 and Worick would be 20. So that is the current setting. Hope you enjoy :)  
> I would love feedback/reviews ;)
> 
> Edit: 9/4 - I'm changing the story's overall summary to show that these are all one shots and not one big story with multiple chapters. Sorry for the confusion guys.

It had been a slow build, truly. The way the violence had slowly but surely escalated over the past six years. For the most part, Worick and Nicolas had been kept fairly safe thanks to their working relationship with the Monroe family. But, it was getting to the point where even Monroe realized Nic needed to be pulled off the job. Everyone was wound so tight that just the appearance of a Twilight could cause an instant riot. It didn't matter what, it didn't matter who, and it was all just a cluster fuck waiting to happen.

Worick had agreed to keep Nicolas at home, but kept his own schedule of working for both Big Mama and Daniel Monroe. It wasn't that they felt Nic couldn't handle himself, at least in a fair fight. But, against an enraged mob like the ones that had sprung up unexpected once a good riot started no Twilight of any rank was safe. And lately it had gone from the stark violence and cruelty which had been the norm for six years and jumped straight to outright sadistic torture. It wasn't just beatings, rape, and murder anymore. Now Twilights were being torn apart limb from limb while they were still alive. Just last week, one had been strung up by their ankles from a bridge and lit on fire. But, that fire hadn't killed the poor bastard. No, it just burnt the rope and plunged him into the river below. He'd crawled out onto the shore and died alone in the mud, burnt beyond recognition.

So, Worick had ordered Nic not to leave their apartment. It wasn't something he liked doing, giving the Twilight orders. It just reminded him of all the horrible technicalities of their situation that could be forgotten during the best of times and swept under the rug on the average day. But, shit like this... It just made it impossible to ignore. When it came down to it, legally, Worick owned his best friend. Nicolas had been born into slavery, like many of the unluckiest of Twilights. The lucky ones, and Worick used that term mildly, were taken into the Paulklee guild or one of the mafia families where they were treated relatively well. Relatively...

It had been a long day and Worick kept his head up as he passed by one raging group of normal humans, their anger verging on a real riot and more joining their numbers each moment. They were way to close to his and Nicolas' apartment for his taste, but he just had to keep acting like he had nothing to hide. No one would suspect a twenty year old to own a Twilight, especially since he was dressed in cheap knock off clothes with a Paul Mall smoldering between his lips. No he looked like any other kid around here just making ends meet, he would be fine.

He turned the corner and found the shabby apartment building still standing, no riot within eyesight. It made him exhale the breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. What had he been expecting anyway? The building to be reduced to rubble while he was gone? That was just dramatic. He snickered a bit to himself, trying to cover up his nerves with nonchalant humor. Nic would be waiting right where he left him, bored as hell and glaring at the door as if that would make time tick by faster.

The rickety stairs creaked in protest as he walked up them, though he frowned as he looked down and saw a trail of blood leading up them. But, it must be someone else’s blood. Nic wouldn't disobey an order. Hell, even after six years of trying to convince the Twilight he could eat when he was hungry or take his meds without permission, why on earth would he choose now of all times to learn independence? No, it couldn't be. Just couldn't be Nic's blood.

Sure enough, the trail seemed to putter out half way down the hall, either the wound had stopped bleeding or the owner of it had ducked inside an apartment. It eased Worick's nerves as he picked up the pace and strolled toward their door. This apartment building was shit and the living conditions were one step above rat infested. But, it was home sweet dump and they could afford it without worrying about not being able to buy Nic's medication every month. Celebrer was damn expensive, without that cost they would be able to afford four times more in rent than they currently could. But, Worick had seen before what happened when he put off buying the shit. Like a dumb, spoiled kid he had put off buying it once when they first came to the city, only to have Nic to fall into violent convulsions and vomiting. He hadn't made that mistake twice and didn't plan to start. Nicolas was quiet by nature and had one hell of a pain tolerance. But, when those withdrawals had kicked in like that, Nic had strangled out horrifying screams of agony. Like he was being skinned alive and his bones snapped one by one.

Worick came to their door and reached out to unlock it, pausing when he felt something cold and wet on the handle. Turning his palm up he realized there was blood on his palm. With shaking hands, Worick unlocked the door and threw it open to find Nic sitting in the center of the room with the first aid kit strewn across the floor. He didn't even notice Worick as he closed and locked the door behind him, moving over to get a closer look at his friend.

There was plenty of blood, but not from any deep wounds. After years of fixing Nic up when he wasn't bad enough off for a visit to the doctor, Worick had gotten good at quickly figuring out how bad off his friend was at a glance. He reached down and gently touched Nic's shoulder, earning a startled gasp and jump from the other. When the Twilight turned to look up, Worick could see his face was badly beaten. His right eye was swollen completely shut and a nasty cut was over that eyebrow. A nasty yellow and blue bruise covered a swelling lump over his cheek and his lip was badly split. Just from a glance, Worick could tell his nose was broken, it was looking too flat and the swelling was nasty along with two black eyes and a lot of dark, snotty blood running out from the nostrils.

"What the hell, Nic! I told you not to leave home!" Worick said, signing in angry, jabbing hand movements as he squatted down to get a better look.

Nic grunted and moved as if to sign, but winced and cradled his hands back into his lap. Worick reached out and gently lifted them back up to see, trying not to let the panic show on his face. All of his fingers were either broken or out of joint except for the thumbs, with nasty scrapes and cuts on the palms and backs of his hands. Those long fingers of his were jacked into so many different angles, it made Worick's own hands hurt in sympathy. They were so swollen and twisted that they made old arthritic hands look like an upgrade. But, at least his actual hands hadn't been broken and most of the fingers just needed to be straightened out and popped back into their joints.

"Shit, Nic... What happened?" Worick gently turned Nic's larger hands over in his own, careful not to bump his fingers.

Nicolas made a sound in his throat, like he did when he was about to speak but hadn't made enough sound and he was trying to make enough noise to feel his throat vibrate. It was how he could tell he was loud enough to be heard. Then a deep breath, "Ah's h'ngy. W'nt 'ood."

"You went to get food? Shit, I didn't even think about that," Worick felt angry in that moment, at himself, at people, at Nicolas.

He hadn't thought to make sure there was food in their pantry for Nic to eat through the day and he was the one always harping on the Twilight about just eating whenever he was hungry, not to wait for permission. He should have checked, should have made sure... Just like Nic should have stayed at home.

"We'll talk about that later. Did anyone see you come into the apartment building?" Worick let Nic's hands go, signing to make sure the question would be understood.

Nic shook his head slowly, "Ah's ca'ful."

"Good... Are you hurt anywhere else?" Worick asked, reaching out to lift the hem of Nic's shirt to check.

Nasty bruises peppered Nic's belly and scrapes in the distinct shape of boots gave Worick a picture of how they got there. How had they even managed to get that close to Nic? He'd been elevated up to B/4 just this year, he was fast enough to outrun normals. And he was damn well smart enough to avoid them right now.

Unless they had snuck up behind him. Nic wouldn't have heard them coming and if something else had his attention, he wouldn't have seen them until they were too close.

"Nah bo's brok'n." Nicolas reassured him, though he did gingerly lift his arms up as Worick gently pulled his shirt off.

"Shit, Nic..." It looked like they had gotten Nic on the ground somehow, kicked him and beaten him with whatever they had on hand at the time. It was a miracle he had gotten away and the realization of how close he had come to losing his friend frightened Worick. Despite all the things Nic had done wrong, he had done right whenever he could. They may have a love-hate relationship, but there was at least more of the love than the hate present. He chewed on his lower lip as he grunted out a," No broken bones my ass."

Just by the bruising around Nic's side, he could tell he had at least one broken rib. This was more than he could handle, but he wouldn't be able to take Nic back outside. Things were getting bad and even if they hid his tags, anyone looking would assume he was a Twilight or a sympathizer because he'd taken a beating, "I gotta call Theo. Maybe he can come by and fix you up."

Theo was a few years younger, but his mother was a damn good doctor and had taught her son the tricks of the trade and they were the only clinic which would treat Twilights. She would be swamped, but Theo might be able to sneak away for just a bit. The phone call was made before Nicolas could protest and thankfully, the clinic had slowed down a bit. Theo could be spared, though his mother couldn't be. It was better than nothing and that teenager knew more about fixing people up than Worick did.

The wait for Theo to arrive was spent with Worick putting stitches into the cut on Nicolas' forehead and busted lip, but he avoided the other boy's hands like the plague. Worick knew what would happen if Nic couldn't use his hands anymore, it wouldn't just be the sword he would lose. Sign Language had freed Nic from the dreadful, silent prison his deafness had left him in. Before he was twelve and met Worick, no one had given him any means to communicate. He had only been able to understand the mouth movements associated with commands because he feared the beating he would receive if he didn't. Back then, he hadn't been able to lip read very well. Just barely enough to open that doorway just a crack, just enough to give Worick a foothold. Now, it felt as if that door which had been flung wide open was threatening to slam shut again.

When Theo arrived, Worick just moved out of the way and watched. He was the only other person in their lives that knew sign language, had actually known it before meeting them. Apparently, his mother had felt it was necessary for him as a future Doctor to be prepared to accommodate any potential patient. And Worick was thankful to that beautiful woman for it. Visits to the clinic were one of the rare moments where Nic was expected to speak for himself, not let Worick speak for him.

First Theo checked Nic's abdomen, declaring that he did have a broken rib, but it wasn't floating and in no danger of puncturing any organs. The only thing they could do for that was have Nic be careful in how he moved, not lift anything heavy, and pray he didn't feel the need to sneeze until it healed up. Next came the hands, a sight which made even Theo with his nerves of steel grimace. The young doctor gently held Nic's hand straight out, then pointed with a free hand to Worick, "Look at Worick, don't look at what I'm doing."

Realization dawned on Worick and he forced himself to smile at Nic, signing that it would be ok. He wasn't sure it would be, Nic's fingers were all wrong. The tips of his fingers bent all the way back with the middle knuckles punched down, forcing the fingers to bend in an impossible zig zag pattern. Only his thumbs had remained unscathed and that was a small blessing. Even if his others fingers would be stiff after this, he would at least still be able to grip a sword.

Nicolas just stared at him, those dark brown eyes of his wide and uncertain. But, he trusted Worick to be right. Like the damned loyal dog that would trust its master even as the gun barrel was pointed at its head. It was a sickening comparison, but not an unrealistic one. They had made slow progress over six years. For every step forward, they took three back. But, eventually, they had started taking three forward and only one back. It was small little things, stuff that a normal human would take for granted. Sitting on furniture instead of the floor, eating food without asking permission, taking his medication on his own without needing it given to him, being able to communicate, even doing work for Monroe when Worick wasn't with him. Nic had made a lot of progress. Baby steps, but still those baby steps were moving forward.

There was a sickening crack and popping noise as Theo jerked one of Nic's fingers straight then pushed the bones back into joint. Nic was able to stay quiet at first, biting his lip and fighting back the tears that came with pain whether they were wanted or not. But, after the third finger was straightened, he cried out in pain on the fourth and looked down at his ruined fingers. The look of horrified panic in Nic's face was a warning and Worick jumped to get him back under control.

Theo moved away just as Worick stepped in, grabbing Nic by the chin and forcing him to look at him. Those brown eyes had narrowed, pupils pin pricks being swallowed by near black brown irises. The whites of his eyes were bloodshot and the blackened, puffy skin around them only made it an even more stark contrast. He wasn't high on Celebrer Uppers, but fear could cause the same manic state if left uncontrolled.

Gently, Worick began petting his friend's short black hair and wiped away the dried blood and snot from his upper lip, "I know it hurts, Nic. Let Theo straighten them out. It's our best bet of getting them working again. Just focus on me, okay?" He spoke quietly, almost not making a sound. But, Nic's bloodshot eyes snapped onto his lips as they moved, reading the slowly spoken words. He felt those shoulders loosen up, then begin to quiver. Nic let his head fall down on Worick's shoulder as he held out his other hand for Theo to take.

With every gut wrenching snap and pop of Nic's fingers, Worick felt his friend tense up and cry out into his shoulder where the fabric had grown wet from quiet tears of pain. Nic had always had such a high pain tolerance. Worick had seen him limp around on a fractured ankle before, shrugging it off as 'just a sprain'. But, then again fingers were a different story and they were all together and though a few were broken rather than dislocated, Theo couldn't pop the bones back into joint without moving the broken ones out of the way.

When it was finally over, Theo put a few splints on the broken fingers and taped up Nic's hands, leaving the swollen fingers that he had straightened out taped rather lightly even as they began to turn a nasty blackish blue, swollen more than twice their normal size. The final thing to do was to straighten out Nic's broken nose, something the Twilight handled much better than his fingers. With a pinch to the bridge of Nic's nose, Theo forced it back into place with a wet cracking sound that made Worick's stomach threaten to force its contents upward. Then, he simply placed a splint over it and gently taped it into place.

"You guys know the drill with everything. He probably won't be able to bend his fingers properly for a while, the broken ones need to stay in the splints. The tape can come off his hands in a few days, put some ice on them when you can to get the swelling to go down. None of the bones in his hands were broken, so it should be fine. Just make sure to bend and unbend the fingers I straightened every few hours starting tomorrow. It'll hurt and they will be stiff, but it's his best bet at them working right afterward," Theo said, packing up his bag with a serious expression before heading out the door.

Worick looked down at Nicolas as he sat on the couch, hands in his lap, just staring at the bruised, swollen fingers. His hands were shaking, quivering uncontrollably. He wasn't even sure if Nic had been paying attention to what Theo had said about his hands, the look on Nic's face was as close to worried as the Twilight ever got. Comforting Nic had never been something Worick had needed to do very often, the few times before had been more for his own benefit than his stoic friend's. But, this was genuine fear. If his fingers didn't work correctly after this, Nic might not be able to use a sword much less use Sign Language.

He waggled in fingers within Nic's line of sight, causing the dark haired young man to look up at him with blood shot eyes surrounded by blackened, swollen eyelids. Worick gave him the best, casual smile he could and signed, ' _Still hungry?'_

At first, Nicolas just blinked at him then the corner of his busted upper lip quirked slightly upward as he nodded an affirmative.

This was a ritual they both knew well. It was familiar and comforting for both of them at times like this, when one of them was all busted up. It was the only occasion that either of them ever cooked and they never touched the stash they needed for it otherwise. Worick filled up a cheap pot with water and set on the stove to boil, pulling out the bag of dried rice to cook. Normally, they would put some sort of meat in there, but it wasn't safe to go back out anymore so plain rice it was.

Once the pot was boiling and the rice was in, Worick covered the pot and returned to Nicolas to sit next to him on the couch. Nic wasn't staring at his hands anymore, instead just gingerly cradling them in his lap as he fought to keep his eyes open. The swelling under his busted forehead had gone down since Worick had stitched it up, the eye no longer swollen completely shut. The other was just a plain ol' fashioned black eye, probably from the broken nose rather than direct damage to the eye itself. His nose had started to swell up underneath the bandage and the packing Theo had stuffed up in there to keep him from oozing blood and snot everywhere forced Nic to breathe through his mouth.

"Just stay awake long enough to eat, okay?" Worick said, signing as he spoke.

Nic just grunted in response, but looked up at him with widened brown eyes. Times like this, when Nic wasn't high on Celebrer Uppers, Nicolas had a real pair of doe eyes. Dark brown, but not quite black, surrounded with short, jet black eyelashes. And Nic's Asian roots showed in his eyes as well as his coloring, though it was plain he wasn't full blooded. His eyes had just the right amount of slant to them. If Nic didn't spend so much time being busted up and looking fit to murder someone, he would be quite handsome. In a rugged, cold blooded killer kind of way.

Once the rice was finished, Worick spooned it evenly into two bowls and motioned for Nic to join him at their rickety table. That was their newest addition of furniture, it made them actually seem a little civilized as opposed to sitting in the floor and eating like the street urchins they had grown up to be. Nicolas eased himself into the chair, wincing a bit with his broken rib but not having much trouble otherwise.

Worick just stared pointedly into his bowl of bland rice and took a mouth full. It was probably an odd thing to have as a comfort food, but it was cheap and easy to chew when your mouth was all fucked up after falling onto someone's fist or boot. He was three mouth fulls in when he heard the sound of a spoon clattering onto the cheap table, which was probably better suited for playing cards than dining. He looked up and winced as he watched Nic struggling to pick up the damn utensil with his fucked up fingers. Worick hadn't even thought about it, just had put down the bowl and spoon out of reflex and not thought twice.

Somehow, Nicolas managed to pick it up, holding it like a small child whose hand was barely big enough to do so properly might. Half of the rice he spooned up was shaken off by the shaking in his hands and the spoon fell from his bruised and swollen hand before it could make it to his busted mouth. The look on Nic's face was one step up from defeat and just a bit more heart breaking than humiliation.

Before Nic could repeat the struggle, Worick reached out and picked up the spoon. Without a word, he just spooned up some rice and held it for Nic. After a small hesitation, Nic flushed a bit pink in the cheeks but leaned forward and took the bite of food without protest. His hands were still quivering where they lay on the table as he chewed the soft rice, but he let Worick feed him in silence, alternating between giving Nic a spoonful and eating some of his own rice while the other chewed. Once both of their bowls were empty, Nicolas muttered what sounded vaguely like an attempt at saying 'thank you'.

Worick just smiled and signed, ' _Everything will be fine, Nicolas. Give it some time, your hands will be fine.'_

It was a trick of his trade, to lie convincingly. Worick lied every day. He lied to the women who bought him, he lied to the people he worked with, lied to strangers for no reason, lied to himself. But, it was hard to lie to Nicolas, those dark brown eyes of his seemed to pierce right through him. But, he had a feeling that this was one Nic would want to believe. And besides, was it really lying or just hope? Theo had seemed hopeful and that boy wasn't exactly Mr. Sunshine.

Nic blinked once, then moved out of the chair to move past Worick. The shorter boy eased himself on to the couch, laying on the side without the broken rib and curling in on himself. He was asleep before Worick could even check, snoring lightly through his open mouth since his broken nose was all clogged up. It was a good thing, Nic didn't get enough sleep normally so when he was hurt was about the only time he actually caught up on what he missed.

Worick flipped on the radio that was already tuned in to the Ergastulum news. Sure enough, another riot had broken out not even a mile away from their home. Stores were being looted, Twilights dragged out from their homes or the brothels they belonged too and murdered. The Twilight Hunts, they were calling it. What a load of horse shit... This wasn't some grand hunt, it was nothing but mass hysteria gone violent. And the ones who were paying the price were the people who had no control over what they were.

Nicolas certainly hadn't chosen to be born a Twilight, already addicted to the Celebrer drugs while in the womb. It wasn't any different from Worick, really. He hadn't chosen to be born from a prostitute, to be the living evidence of his father's lustful weaknesses. He still didn't know the full story of Nicolas and those mercenaries, the Twilight never talked about it. All he had to go on was what he had seen and none of what his perfect memory kept him from forgetting was good or normal. It was dirty... It was violent... It was horrible. But, there was nothing anyone could do about the past.

Worick could only stomach the radio for half an hour before he flipped it off and looked back toward Nic. The nineteen year old was dead asleep on the couch, still as a statue and snoring lightly with his mouth open. He looked like shit, really. Face all busted up, covered in yellowing black and blue bruises that still swollen, and then his hands still made Worick wince to look at them. At least all the fingers were straight now. They needed to put ice on them, but there was no way Worick was going anywhere until the morning. It was just too dangerous, even if it was just to go get some damn ice. Maybe their next investment should be a refrigerator? It would certainly make keeping food in the apartment a lot easier. But, they really didn't have much money left over at the end of each month once they paid for Celebrer.

The next morning, Nic actually looked worse instead of better. All the bruises were a yellowing at the edges nastily and the blackened centers of them were swollen, his torso looked almost lumpy from swelling, and while swelling around his fingers had gone down they were still the wrong shade of blue. The first thing Worick had done was call in to get out of work for the day with Big Mama, claiming he had caught the wrong end of a stomach bug because there was nothing sexy about that. It would get him out of it for the day and if he hurried, he would be able to grab some ice and food before anyone that might recognize him in the streets would even be awake.

He made the food run short and sweet, just enough to feed Nic for a few days to keep him in the apartment. Cans of soup, instant noodles, stuff that didn't need to be kept cool and was easy to chew. The bag of ice was heavy in his other hand, but it was probably more necessary than the food. This early in the morning, there was nobody but shop keepers just opening up their stores. Everybody that might recognize him was anywhere but the streets, which was good. He was supposed to be sick after all.

He burst into the door of the apartment, not worrying about the noise. Sure enough, Nic was already awake and just sat there on the couch with a miserable expression on his face. If he felt half as bad as he looked, Worick couldn't blame him for the sour look, "I got food and ice."

Nic just nodded to show he understood, hands still cradled gingerly in his lap. For now, Worick just tossed the bag of cheap food on the table and the bag of ice in the sink. The best he could do for putting ice on Nic's sore spots would be to wrap the ice cubes in a thin rag and hope the holes didn't tear any bigger in the fabric. Once he had enough ice in the cloth, he folded it up and twisted the remaining fabric together and held it tight.

"Let me see your hands," He signed with a free hand as he spoke, sitting down next to Nic on the cheap old couch.

With a soft sigh, Nic held them out for Worick to inspect. The swelling had gone down a little bit, but the bruising wasn't any better. He had three broken fingers in total, the ring and pinky on his left hand and the index of his right. The two on the left were taped together with their splints, but Theo had not taped the broken one on the right to a neighboring finger for fear of dislocating it again. Instead, the fingers that had been dislocated had been lightly taped, just enough to support the weak points that had been dislocated. Carefully, Worick began to unwrap Nic's hand and fingers. If he moved anything wrong or hurt him, Nic certainly didn't show it.

"Try bending them," He said, nodding towards the now free hand.

Nic wiggled his fingers experimentally at first, then tried bending each one by itself save for the broken ones. It was obvious they were stiff and were too swollen to touch the tips to his palm, but they were moving just fine otherwise. The relief was visible on Nic's face, a small little smile tugging at the side of his mouth as he held up that hand and signed a simple, albeit distorted thanks to the splinted fingers, ' _they work.'_

"See, I told you it would be fine," Worick replied, smiling a bit as he began to remove the tape from the other hand as well. Just like the left hand, the fingers on the right hand were able to bend as they should considering the swelling they had going on. Nic motioned toward the makeshift ice pack and Worick moved to pressed it lightly against one of Nic's palms.

"H'rt," Nic's voice was barely loud enough to be heard.

"Does it hurt because I'm pressing too hard or because they are just sore?" Worick asked, needing to clarify.

"Jus' h'rt," Nicolas replied simply, voice too loud.

Worick nodded in acknowledgment, careful not to press the ice against the splinted fingers. It was still bothering him, the need to know the details. Curiosity killed the cat, after all. He had worried over it all night, wondering how anyone had been able to sneak up on Nic much less keep him down long enough to do that sort of damage. Nicolas was fast and had years of experience when it came to making a mad dash down Ergastulum's alley ways in order to lose someone that might be chasing him. They had certainly gotten enough practice with that as kids, stealing food and then running for it just to survive.

Moving the ice to Nic's other hand, Worick motioned with his free hand to get Nic's attention, "What exactly happened last night?"

At first, Nicolas just shrugged and looked away pointedly. Worick knew it wasn't really fair to ask a question requiring a lengthy answer right now. Nic didn't like speaking out loud and he couldn't exactly manage anything more than the simplest of signs with his hands. But, he just couldn't wait for a week or two before Nic could use his hands properly again. He needed to know what had happened. Or at least, he felt like he needed to know. Then Nic turned back towards him, looking at him with an expression that suggested Worick had just asked him to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, "Ah got det'acted."

"Distracted? By what?"

Nic made a frustrated sound in his throat, "Ah bey 'ood. Dey not unner'sand wot ah say"

Worick grimaced, already picturing what had happened easily enough. While he was used to Nic's speech, the average person wasn't. When they were younger, he had tried convincing Nic to speak out loud as he signed. It would help people understand he could not hear them, but would also mean he was practicing his speech more since he had become surprisingly talkative once he had mastered sign language. As quiet as Nicolas had been as a twelve year old, by the time he had become fluent in sign language he was one step below being a blabber mouth. He had sharp wit and dry humor and did not hold it back. But, if he needed to talk out loud, he lost all that confidence and would go silent instead.

"Let me guess, that man who sells the damn hotdogs you like so much and mumbles?" Worick asked, trying to lighten the mood just a bit. When Nicolas nodded, he just had to laugh a little bit. The two of them had been going to that stupid stand for several years now. It was cheap food, but it was something hot to fill their bellies. It tasted like shit, but Nic had never really had much a taste for fine dining. It was the only food he was actually ask for, otherwise he just didn't care what they ate.

The man who ran the stand was a nightmare for communication. He mumbled so badly, even Worick had trouble understanding him and it was hopeless for Nic to read his lips at all. He knew Nic had bought food there before on his own, but the man had always claimed to be unable to understand Nic's speech at all. So they usually would fumble back and forth for a few minutes before trying to find a pen for Nic to write down what he wanted on a napkin. And if they couldn't find a pen, then it would just be Nic sitting there trying to say the words as clearly as possible while the idiot just stared at him like he was speaking in a foreign language. It had always baffled Worick, how some people could understand Nic, needing him to repeat himself only here and there, while others just couldn't understand him at all.

Nicolas snorted through his broken nose, wincing a bit as if he hadn't thought about how doing so would hurt until after the fact. That confirmed it and Worick had grin at him just a bit, "Were you writing down what you wanted?"

Nicolas nodded, "Loth pep'l seak up."

"Lots of people?" Worick clarified, wincing a bit when Nic nodded and gestured to his busted up forehead and nose with a free hand.

"Ah fall dow'. Dey h'rt."

"They blindsided you real good there, pal. There have been whole groups of them just walking around looking for Twilights. That's why I didn't want you to leave the apartment."

Nic just shrugged nonchalantly while Worick began to chew on his lower lip in frustration. He wanted to fuss at Nic for disobeying, for putting himself in such a bad situation. But, then on the other hand, he knew doing so would set him back on being independent. Fussing at Nic now, for doing exactly what Worick had been coaching him to do for years now, would mean he would just revert to always asking permission for everything again. So, Worick swallowed the words he wanted to spout out in frustration and simply said, "I'm just glad you're alright."

"Ag'in?" Nic said, face scrunching up like it always did when he hadn't been able to read someone's lips.

"I said that I was glad you are alright. They could have killed you. I'm glad you got away before they hurt you worse than they did."

Worick wasn't at all surprised when Nic stuck out his tongue at him, a horrible and childish habit that Nic showed no signs of giving up any time soon. It was something he could do that didn't require sign language or speaking out loud to convey his feeling. And it didn't matter if it was Granny Joel selling them cigarettes or Daniel Monroe himself, Nic would stick out that tongue with a dead pan expression without a second thought. Worick chuckled a bit to himself, not rising to the bait and instead moving the ice pack off Nic's hand to check if the swelling had gone down.

Sure enough, they were almost back to normal size. The coloring looked nasty as hell, but the damage didn't seem at all permanent. He might as well enjoy the 'quiet' for a few weeks with Nic not being able to sign very well. Once those fingers were all healed up and moving properly, Nic would be right back to giving his two cents for everything Worick said or didn't say. Frankly, with as unfiltered as Nic was with his opinions and name calling, Worick was glad the average person couldn't understand Sign Language. They would both probably end up with busted faces a lot more often otherwise.

"Let me wrap your hands back up then we can figure out some breakfast," Worick smiled, carefully wrapping the tape back around Nic's hand and fingers as close to how Theo had done it as possible.

Then he gave Nicolas a shit eating grin, "I could run grab some of those hotdogs you like so much. Even if they do taste like ass."

This time when Nic stuck his tongue out, Worick just laughed a deep rumble from his chest. Just for today, they could be two kids without a care in the world. Locked away safe at home, no mobs to worry about. He couldn't think of a better way to spend the day. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For now I'm planning on this staying a one shot, but I will probably add more one shot stories as new chapters.
> 
> Reviews are much loved :)


	2. Secrets Whispered in Deaf Ears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minor spoilers for Alex's background covered so far in the manga(but not yet in the Anime as of this being posted)
> 
> Once again, I suck at summaries. But, this is a little one shot with Nic and Alex.

Alex carried the plate of food down the stairs, careful not to spill any of the contents. Dinner that night hadn't been fancy, but she had tried something new. Once again, Nicolas hadn't joined herself and Worick to eat together. It had seemed strange at first, making her feel as if they were leaving Nic out, but she was slowly coming to understand that Nicolas was rather solitary whenever he had a choice in the matter. It seemed his only close relationship was with Worick, everyone else was kept at a distance.

She set the food on the counter and caught sight of Nico doing his usual evening workout routine. Legs up on the couch seat with his back on the floor, curling in with quick but precise movements. Without missing a beat, he kept doing the crunches, though he was watching her from the corner of his eyes. That had perhaps taken the most time to get used too. Nicolas was about as intense an individual as Alex had ever met, his calm demeanor and silence only adding to the effect. Yet, calm as he was, he had a very expressive face. Yet, no matter what expression crossed his features, those dark eyes were always intense and felt as if they were cutting straight down into her soul.

"I brought dinner," She said quietly, working her way through what she was almost certain was the right sequence of hand signs.

Nic stopped moving, letting his back rest flush against the floor as he turned his head to look at her fully. His skin was just barely flushed from his exercise as he stood back up and walked towards her, craning his head slightly to peer at the plate she had set down earlier. Yet another thing she had gotten used to with Nic. He both did and didn't pay attention to her. Sometimes, she wondered if he only acted like he was ignoring her and then other times, she wondered if he really did brush her off. And then there were times when she wasn't sure if he had ignored what she said or been unable to see the words her lips had formed, not caring enough to ask her to repeat.

A flash of memory crossed her thoughts, from the brothel she had visited with Nic and Worick not long ago. First the prostitutes there had scorned Nicolas, their insults and taunts had angered her more than she would have expected. Nic had either not seen their words or ignored them, but once he had been invited in by the Mistress of the place... He had disappeared. One moment he was following them up the stairs, then the next he was just gone. Alex had only been able to steal a small glance, but she had seen them together. The woman on the bed, with medical equipment nearby and an IV in her arm as she reached up to caress Nicolas' cheek. And he had allowed her to do so. In fact, Alex was sure she had seen him lean into the touch, eyes closed in a rare moment. Even Worick didn't really touch Nic very much. Nina might get away with it, but Nic was just playfully teasing in his physical interaction with the young girl. But, with that woman lying in the bed, Nic had been tender.

It wasn't unlike the time they had been working to fix up Connie's shop and Alex's hands had been shaking too bad to open the safety cap of the bottle for her medicine. Just as she was sure she was sliding into a panic attack and would soon begin to hallucinate again, strong arms had wrapped around her from behind. At first she had thought it would be Worick, but then she had glanced up and to see Nic's chin next to her cheek. His big, gloved hands had covered her own smaller, shaking ones and opened the bottle for her so she could take the much needed medication. But, he had not lingered. He had been gone before she could even register he had been there really, not even giving her time to thank him.

Alex smiled gently to herself, watching Nicolas as he picked up the plate and returned to the small couch to eat. He had horrible table manners, though she knew no one would really hold it against him. There was no way for him to know how loud he was when he ate, but somehow it didn't grate on her nerves like it did when anyone else smacked their lips while eating. At least he ate with his mouth closed, it was just purely the noises he made while eating. Soup was possibly the worst thing to listen to him eat, he had a truly horrible habit of slurping it from the spoon. Not that it really mattered, he almost always ate alone.

"Is it good?" She asked, signing along as she spoke as he gazed up at her mid bite.

For a moment, he just stared at her with the bored expression Alex had come to think of as his default facial features. Those dark brown eyes met her own in that intense stare of his before dropping down to the plate of food in his lap then dragging back up to lock gazes with her once again. Alex just smiled as he went back to eating, swallowing the bite of food in his mouth a bit too loudly. Whether he said it or not, nobody ate food quite that heartily if they weren't enjoying it at least a little. As he began to ignore her, she sat down lightly on the opposite side of the small couch, leaning an elbow on the arm rest and gazing across the other side of the room.

Worick had probably already left to go meet up with his customers for tonight and she just didn't really feel like going back upstairs where she would be alone. She hadn't needed any more than her regular doses of the tranquilizer Dr. Theo had given her, but she still felt that hint of anxiety tugging at the back of her mind. Like if she was alone in the silence for too long, she might find it hard to breath. Outside of when he was eating, Nic was rather quiet, but not enough to forget he was in the room. And that was all she really wanted at the moment, just the reassurance that someone else was in the room.

"'ood ith 'ood," the sound of Nic's voice made her jump, it almost always caught her off guard when he bothered to speak out loud. His volume was up and down whenever he spoke out loud, sometimes beginning a word loudly and becoming quiet half way through only to over stress the end of it. He also had a lisp and dropped some sounds completely when he spoke certain words. But, his voice wasn't unpleasant. It was obvious he rarely used it, but it was also obvious that he had bothered to learn how to use it as well. Even if everyone knew he disliked speaking out loud and avoided doing so as much as possible, at some point he had made the conscious effort to learn how to do it. She could almost imagine how his voice would sound if it wasn't so rough from lack of use. Even if he didn't have much control over his pitch and volume, she could tell he had a deep voice.

"I'm glad you like it," She replied with a happy smile, unsure of how to sign the entire phrase and so settling on the single sign for 'happy'.

"You' signs bether." Nic said before putting another big bite of food into his mouth and chewing noisily.

"Worick helped me practice last night when he didn't have customers. It's easier to learn when I can use it as I talk with someone," She said, trying to sign along as best she could while still speaking out loud.

Nic swallowed his food and set the plate down on the floor, leaning forward without changing his expression. Alex blinked in surprise when Nicolas took her hands in his own larger ones, "You do signs fer 'alk w'ong, Ah fith it."

Alex was quiet as Nic positioned her fingers correctly, then waited expectantly for her to attempt the sign again. After she did so he frowned and shook his head again, then made the sign himself for her to see. Once she did it correctly, he nodded solemnly before moving on to point out a few other signs she had almost correct but not quite. The ones she had completely wrong he simply told her to 'fix it' and didn't bother to teach it to her at all.

"Thank you, Nicolas," She said softly, signing out the letters of his name knowing she could at least do that perfectly. Even if the way he told her she did things wrong or the expression on his face suggested he was annoyed at having to teach her how to sign correctly, his touch when positioning her hands and fingers was very gentle.

Nic blinked at her for a moment, as if trying to find a flaw in her signs for 'Thank you' and the spelling of his name. But, in this case she knew he wouldn't find any. It was actually the very first phrase she had taught herself in sign language. First was 'Thank you' and then how to spell Nicolas and Worick's names in sign language. Nic frowned again, "Wel'ome, Alegs."

She blinked, trying to keep her face straight. Here they were having probably the longest conversation between the two of them alone since she had met him and it was a rather friendly one too. But, Nic was pronouncing her name completely wrong. Then again, she had to remind herself that he was going off how people moved their lips when saying her name. She wasn't sure if she should try to correct him or let it go. It wasn't quite like when he had corrected her hand signs. But, the way he said her name... It sounded like he was saying 'All eggs' instead of 'Alex'. But. she had picked up that he had trouble making the sound for 's' and 'x' properly, his lisp turning it into 'ith' and 'eck' or 'eg'.

"Ah sa' it w'ong'?" Nic asked, face twisting into the same irritated expression as when someone told him he had to talk out loud, like Granny Joel did when they stopped by without Worick. It was about as close to pouting as Nic ever got.

"Ah... Sorry," She said, not wanting to hurt his feelings. She wasn't even sure how she would teach him how to say it correctly. How did you coach someone who was deaf how to properly say a word? Obviously it could be done, someone had to have helped Nic with his speech at some point in the past. Probably Worick, if she had to guess, though he would probably never tell people he had done so. The way he had helped her with her sign language the other night had left her with the impression that Worick was both good at and quite used to teaching people things like that.

"Here... Like this," She offered, saying her name slowly and making sure to move her lips in a way that exaggerated the letter sounds in her name. Nic just stared at her for a moment, as if considering if he really wanted to learn how to say her name out loud or not.

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but seemed to decide against it. Actually, Alex was astonished to see a very light blush across his cheeks. Was he embarrassed? It passed as quickly as it had come though, the faint blush replaced with that wicked grin of his before he spelled out her name in flawless sign language, ' _A-l-e-x, You get your sign language right and I won't have to say it like that.'_

She was able to pick out enough of his signs to get the gist of what he was saying, though he hadn't bothered to slow down his signing like Worick had done for her yesterday. The way Nic signed was almost the opposite of the way he spoke out loud. When he was signing his words, his hands were both precise and graceful as they moved quickly and fluidly to form his words and sentences. The exact opposite of how he spoke slowly and, if she were being honest, clumsily when speaking out loud.

She smiled and shrugged, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with his logic. Leaning back against the couch, she let her head fall backwards to rest against the cushion and stare up at the ceiling. She could hear Nic had gone back to eating, but didn't turn to watch. At this point, she was just hoping he wouldn't dart off to another part of the house and leave her alone.

"Aleth," She blinked when she heard him mutter her name again, though he didn't look her way and just shoved more food into his mouth as if nothing had happened. Yet, as she looked at him, that faint tinge of pink was on his cheeks again.

It wasn't perfect, but it was impossible to mistake it for anything but her name unlike before. She smiled widely at him when he looked at her from the corner of her eyes, nodding as she said, "Yes, that's it. That's how you say it."

He froze for a moment, mid chew of a mouthful of food. That faint blush darkened just a bit as his eyebrows creased together, going back to eating noisily to cover up his little bout of shyness. This was definitely a new side to Nicolas that Alex hadn't seen before. She had to admit, she liked this side of him.

Her smile suddenly faded as a memory came to mind, unbidden. When Emilio had been very small, she had coached him on how to say her name and other words as well. The feeling of her little brother saying her name for the first time had felt surprisingly similar to this moment now with Nic working to say her name correctly. It wasn't the same, but it was similar enough to bring the memory up to the surface. Tears sprang to her eyes as the image of Emilio's happy grin came to mind, but her heart nearly broke when she couldn't remember his voice as he said her name.

A tap on her shoulder brought her attention back to Nic as he signed,  _'Bad memories again?'_

She blinked and rubbed the tears from her eyes, "Yeah, sorry."

"Aleth, Ah c'nt 'ead you' wo'ds."

"Oh, sorry... I just, had a memory of a my little brother again..." She repeated, this time making sure her hands were away from her face as she spoke.

Nic didn't say anything, though his dark piercing eyes stayed glued to her. It was obvious that he knew she wasn't telling him the memory for a reason. Alex didn't want to offend him by comparing his attempts at pronouncing her name correctly with that of a toddler learning to talk. And she had a feeling that telling a deaf man that she couldn't remember the sound of her brother's voice wouldn't end the way she wanted it too. It wasn't like she really wanted anyone to comfort her, that sort of wishful thinking had been beaten out of her by Barry years ago. Sometimes, she just wanted to say it out loud to another person. Not because she wanted them to respond or even to comfort her, but just for the relief that came with telling another person about her fears and problems.

She glanced his way when he let out a sigh, a habit of his when he was either bored or frustrated which seemed to go hand in hand for Nic. But, she quickly realized he was trying to get her attention. The plate of food he had been eating was empty and he had let his head fall back against the cushion, eyes closed. She knew he wasn't asleep, but with his eyes closed like that she could talk all she wanted without worrying about him taking anything the wrong way. After a minute passed by and he still hadn't sat back up or opened his eyes, Alex smiled a bit. Nic wasn't the type to take naps and even at night he slept just long enough to wake up with the sunrise. He'd never admit it, but she knew he was doing this so she could talk to someone without actually having to share her secrets.

"Nina was right, you're a good person, Nicolas," Alex murmured, feeling a tear escape from her eyes and drip down her cheek, "You would hate it if you knew I compared the two of you... But, this reminded me of when my little brother was learning how to talk. He used to say my name kind of like how you do. He couldn't make the 'x' sound either. The two of you don't sound anything alike, but it just brought the memory back up to the surface."

Nic still sat with his eyes closed, but by his breathing she knew he was still awake, "Or maybe you do sound alike... I can't remember what his voice sounded like anymore. I raised him, you know? He was my brother, but I had to be more of a mother to him than a sister. I can't even remember why I left with Barry. It was so long ago and the drugs Barry gave me... Everything is just in little pieces. I remember Emilio begged me to stay. Begged me not to leave him alone. He was still small. How could I leave him like that? He needed me. Part of me wants to remember and the other part doesn't. Because, when I finally remember the reason why I left, I have this feeling like it will just make me hate myself even more."

She hadn't realized it, but she was now leaning forward with her hands on the couch cushion. Tears fell down her face and yet it felt as if a weight had come off her shoulders. Nic couldn't hear her and with his eyes closed, he couldn't read her lips either. But, the effect was the same as talking to anyone else about her problems. The difference was, when it was over, that despite all the nasty little secrets and fears she had just told him, it would remain a secret. He couldn't hear her and he wasn't looking at her. Nic really was the perfect person for this sort of thing, even if his personality seemed to be so abrasive.

Reaching out, Alex wanted to touch him. To run her fingers through that short black hair of his. She hesitated, slender fingers hovering just inches from his head. Nina had done this when Nic was hurt, but he had been passed out. There was always something so unapproachable about Nic, it was why they had had such difficulty in getting along. No matter how hard she tried, Nicolas was just somehow always separate from everyone else. It wasn't just that he couldn't hear, it was the fact that he was tagged as well. Everyone treated him differently. Worick was perhaps the exception and yet, there had been times when she had seen it from him as well. Subtle little reminders that Nic wasn't human... And yet, recently she had met other Twilights and they seemed to have quite a spectrum of emotions. Perhaps muted compared to a humans and they were virtually enslaved no matter how you looked at it. Technically, Nicolas was only allowed to be 'free' because of Worick. On paperwork, he belonged to Worick and there had been times where Worick had had to give him orders, orders that Nic would follow without question. And yet, even compared to the other Twilights she had met, Nicolas seemed to be more stunted in his range of emotion than they were. She had seen that he was capable of the gentler emotions and yet, they seemed difficult for him. As if, even when he was feeling them, he didn't quite understand it and had no idea what to do about them.

Swallowing her fear, Alex closed the distance between them. Her fingers pressed through his short hair, rubbing gently along his scalp, causing Nic's eyes to fly open as he jumped in surprise. But, she didn't apologize and his wide eyes softened a bit once he realized it was just her. It actually surprised her that he didn't swat away her hand or move away, instead letting her run her fingers through his hair. Those short black strands of hair were softer than she had imagined, the hair silky almost like Worick's though the color was jet black. While her hair was dark, there was still brown mixed in the black. But, Nic had pure black hair, no brown to be seen within the short strands.

The look in his eyes gave her the impression that he was remembering something else as her fingers moved down to the side of his head, feeling the rougher bit of his hair that was cut shorter than the top of his head. Nic let out a sigh and leaned into her hand, eyes a little unfocused in whatever memory he had fallen into. It made her wonder who he was remembering. Perhaps a lover long gone? The woman Granny Joel had warned her about? Alex had so many questions about that, but she didn't dare ask either Nic or Worick about it. Had Nic really hurt her? And yet, from what she had heard, it gave her the impression that Nicolas had likely been in love with her.

"I'm sorry, I know you don't like this sort of thing. But... I... I guess, I don't really know why..." She muttered, but she could tell that he wasn't looking at her lips. Nic was gazing off somewhere past her shoulder, letting his cheek rest into the palm of her hand as she let her thumb gently brush from his sideburn to the skin of his cheek. Yes, he wasn't seeing her at all right now. He was firmly in a memory, imagining someone else. But, he had let her have the illusion of telling him her problems just moments ago, the least she could do was allow him a little fantasy like this for a few brief moments.

Nic blinked, eyes coming back into focus on her face. Alex pulled her hand back away, sitting back into the cushion of the couch. He didn't look angry or irritated, but the moment was definitely over. The expression on his face was stoic, those eyes staring at her with the usual intensity. A thousand questions went through her mind, but she remembered that he hadn't asked her questions earlier. So instead, she just brought her hands up and signed,  _'Thank you.'_


	3. I Don't Think You're Scary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not much is said in the manga about Nina's past. So I used my imagination and came up with this little one shot about the first time Nina meets Nicolas.

"What do you say, Nina? Do we need to give them stitches?" Dr. Theo asked her casually, eyes watching her expectantly.

It had only been a month since she had started actually working with him in the clinic, before that it had all just been studying diagrams and listening to him give explanations on the what and why of how things worked. This was the newest thing he was teaching her, how to determine what wounds needed stitches and how to actually apply said stitches. Theo knew the answers to every question he asked her, ready to swoop in and correct her should she make a mistake, but he still asked and gave her the chance to either make the correct choice or the wrong one.

She leaned in toward the middle aged man sitting on the chair with his arm held up for her to see. Chewing on her lower lip, Nina went through the criteria Theo had drilled into her head earlier that week. The cut had to be one fourth of an inch deep at the least to be eligible for stitches, whether or not the width of the cut makes it easy or difficult to pinch together, the location of the wound was also important. Reaching out with latex glove covered hands, she took a deep breath and held the patients arm and got a good look. It was definitely deep enough. Lightly pinching at the edges of the wound, she used her fingers to pull the edges of the torn skin together but doubted a bandage would be able to hold it shut.

"He needs stitches, the laceration is deep and with it being on his forearm a bandage wouldn't work very well," She answered, blinking up at the looming figure of the doctor.

"Very good," Theo answered, motioning for her to run get the necessary supplies.

"I didn't expect a kid to be that smart, how old is she, Doc?"

She smiled a little as she heard the patient ask the question which seemed to be on every visitors' lips since she had first started working at the clinic. It had been a little intimidating at first, but after a while she had realized that the question was asked out of admiration not as an attempt to put her down. So now, she just smiled when they asked the question and waited for the reply Theo always gave.

"She's the same age I was when I came to work in the clinic with my mother."

Nina quickly gathered the tools she would need, carrying the tray with careful steps before setting it down on the small rolling stand near the patient. The man just smiled at her warmly, the action causing the large scar, which ran across the right half of his face, to tug at the skin beneath his right eye slightly. If she hadn't already received the lecture from Theo just last week, she would have wanted to ask how he got such a large scar on his face. It started at his right ear, which was partially missing, and ran under his right eye and across the bridge of his nose.

"Mr. Adriano, I need you to hold very still please," She instructed a little shyly, holding the man's arm while she gently began to clean out the laceration.

He did as told, remaining still as a statue and just as quiet as one. Cleaning it out and then sterilizing it wasn't difficult, and she had giving the localized anesthetic time to kick in, but now came the hard part. She had only actually applied stitches to one other person so far. The rest had been practice on pieces of meat with the skin still attached from the local butcher shop. It was good practice, but living patients moved a lot more than a severed pig leg.

"Aren't you forgetting something, Nina?"

Theo's voice wasn't overly stern, so she was sure she hadn't made a major mistake. Going over everything in her head, she wasn't sure what she had missed, "I'm sorry, Dr. Theo."

"You forgot to ask when he had his last Tetanus shot."

"Oh sorry," she murmured, looking expectantly at their patient as he just smiled and informed her he had had a tetanus shot two years prior.

With that, she was good to start stitching the laceration shut. She nimbly threaded the needle then gripped it with the needle driver, then finally reached out to start stitching the wound closed. The patient stayed very still, she would guess he had had stitches more than once before. The phone rang and she felt a bit nervous without Theo watching her work, but she continued on. It took about ten minutes, but she finally got the last stitch in and tied it just so. Standing back, she smiled proudly at the row of perfectly neat stitches.

"Very good, Nina," Theo said, patting her on the head as their patient stood up, "You know how to care for it, Marco. Try not to open it up again this time."

They quietly cleaned up the bloody gauze and tools, but when she moved to change back into her regular clothes the doctor stopped her and motioned for her to put the folded dress back down.

"We have another patient coming in shortly. That was the phone call I received. It's actually good timing, I was planning to start teaching you about how to treat Twilights after you were done learning how to apply stitches," The doctor spoke casually, as if this were normal procedure.

"A Twilight?" She asked, feeling that familiar sense of fear rising up in the pit of her stomach. She had never met a Twilight that she knew of, after all they tended to keep to the shadows and at her age she always traveled on the main roads where there were plenty of people. She had known that Dr. Theo supplied his own version of Celebrer at a discounted price to local Twilights, but she had thought they were just the ones who weren't of the caliber to work the sort of jobs where they got hurt. She knew that some of them were more domestic, but those were few and far in between. Before her mother had died, she had always warned Nina to stay away from anyone wearing a dog tag.

"You aren't afraid of them I hope," Theo mumbled, looking at her with a stoic expression despite the raised eyebrow.

"My... mom always said to stay away from them. That they are very dangerous. She said they aren't like normal humans, they are more violent and cruel." She answered honestly, cheeks flushing slightly in a mixture of nervousness and embarrassment.

"Well, you'll meet one now and treat him. Then you can decide for yourself what to think about them."

As if on queue, the door to the clinic opened and two men walked in. One was of average height for a man, with long platinum blonde hair and a gun holster at his shoulder. The other was a good bit shorter with jet black hair and an Asian skin tone, around his neck hung a pair of tags. Nina swallowed and forced herself not to take a step back as the Twilight's eyes fell on her and narrowed. He was short for a man, but he had dark brown eyes that could cut steel with just a glance. Everything about him looked harsh and it didn't help that there was blood all over his shirt.

The taller man with blonde hair gave her a disarming grin as she noticed that he wore an eye patch over his left eye. She blushed a little as she realized he was very handsome, feeling a bit shy suddenly. But, that fluttery feeling vanished when she felt the harsh gaze of the Twilight boring into her skull again. The way he stood gave her the impression of a tightly coiled spring or perhaps a twitchy finger laying against the trigger of a gun. It made her incredibly nervous, but she had to admit he didn't look anything like she had expected.

She had expected a giant of a man to come in, all big and brawny muscles with lots of ragged scars on their face from fighting. She also had expected someone that would be a lot louder, perhaps obnoxious in their knowledge of being stronger than the average human. But, this Twilight had come in without saying a word. He looked harsh and like he was tensed up, but he was quiet and a great deal smaller than what she had cooked up in her imagination.

"Theo, glad you were in today. You're a life saver, really." The blonde man spoke happily, as if this were a social visit to a close friend. His blue eye settled on Nina, "And who is this little cutie pie?"

"This is Nina, I'm training her as my nurse," Theo answered, gesturing toward her casually.

"Oh? That's about how old you were the first time you patched me up, I think," The blonde answered then grinned down at her, "Well, Nina, it's nice to meet you. I'm Worick and this is Nicolas."

"Worick and Nicolas," She repeated their names shyly, flushing a bit as the handsome man grinned back at her with a smile that could melt ice, "It's nice to meet you."

"Well, Nic. What did you manage to screw up this time?" Theo's biting tone made her flinch and she looked up at him with a shocked expression.

She had never heard the doctor speak that way to a patient before, but it also seemed like the three of them had known each other for a very long time. The two men certainly didn't seem put off by it, Worick's grin had even widened just a bit as he glanced slyly over at Nicolas. Movement caught her attention as Nicolas began to move his hands and it took her a moment to realize he was using Sign Language. She had never seen it used before, but the movements were fluid and lovely. She had no idea what he was saying, but the way his hands moved was almost like watching the movements of a professional dancer, precise and elegant.

"I should have known, you two are more trouble than you're worth, you know that?" Theo answered, again catching Nina off guard.

"Dr. Theo, you understand Sign Language?" She asked, blinking up at him with surprise.

"Of course, what kind of doctor would I be if I wasn't prepared to handle any sort of patient that comes into the Clinic? Being able to communicate with our patients is important, Nina. For now don't worry, Nic is deaf but he can read lips very well," Theo's tone softened when speaking to her, less clinical and with just a bit of warmth in there.

She turned back toward Nicolas who was watching her with an unreadable expression, those dark eyes just a little less harsh than before. Or perhaps she just didn't feel as nervous now that they had been introduced? Nina paused when his gaze met her own spot on and only hesitated a moment before giving the Twilight a big, toothy grin. It seemed to catch him off guard and he glanced up at Worick as if to make sure the smile hadn't been meant for the other man rather than himself.

"Nina, you take care of Nicolas while I handle Worick. His injuries should be superficial, if you see anything more than that come get me," Theo spoke as he wrote something on a notepad, taking a moment longer before passing it to Nina along with the pen.

She glanced down and realized it was a list of questions with space for answers so that she would know what to ask him on top of the standard questions that she needed to ask a normal human. It was only about five questions, but she was also glad for the pen and paper since she wasn't sure how she would ask them to begin with. Theo tended to be the sort of teacher that just tossed her into the water and waited to see if she would sink or swim. This case was no different.

Nicolas stared at her for a moment once they were left alone, one hand lifting up to scratch at the back of his head as he raised an eyebrow at her questioningly. With a nervous cough, she motioned for him to sit down at one of the beds separated by curtains. Theo and Worick were down at the other end of the clinic, though by the looks of things they seemed to be talking more than actually examining Worick. Likely, their conversation was private, so she merely turned back to Nic and watched as he removed his jacket then unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off.

He was peppered with bruises and scrapes all over his torso, both front and back. Nina leaned in close to get a better look at what looked to be a nasty case of road rash on his bicep. She resisted the urge to jump right into tending to the injuries and instead sat down and looked over the first question on the notepad. She wasn't exactly sure of their purpose, but she had always heard that Twilights were different from humans and trusted Theo would explain later.

"Um... Nicolas, have you noticed losing your sense of pain recently?" She asked, making sure to look at him so he could see her mouth.

He blinked then nodded slowly, eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced in the direction of Theo and Worick as if to make sure the curtains really did have them out of view.

She reached out and gently tapped at an uninjured patch of skin on his shoulder to get his attention, "Okay... Did you notice this after just taking a dose Celebrer or was it spontaneous?"

"Cel'ber," He answered out loud, his voice taking her by surprise.

"Okay," She wrote down the answer then scanned down to the next question, "Are you taking Celebrer downers at the same as the uppers?"

He shook his head and she checked again to see what she was supposed to ask him in case he did say no, "Are you taking downers at all?"

He nodded and made a gesture with his hand as if asking her for the notepad. Once she handed it to him, his eyes scanned down the page and he used the pen to scribble in his own answers before handing it back to her to read. His answer for the Celebrer downers were that he took less than prescribed with his daily dose because they made him sick. The next question had been how many hours of sleep he got every night, his answer had been four. The final question asked if he was experiencing any abdominal pain, chest pain, severe headaches, or difficulty breathing. Questions like that seemed harmless on their own, but Nina knew that when paired together they could be early indications for organ failure or damage. He had written 'no' next to the question, but the fact that it seemed such a standard question with Twilights surprised her.

"Okay, I need to clean up these scrapes, especially your arm. Tell me if it hurts," She said quietly, waiting for him to nod before pulling on the latex gloves and picking up the tools she needed.

First she used sterile tweezers to pick out the pieces of gravel, glass, and dirt out of the road rash on his arm. Once the worst was out, she scrubbed it clean and was surprised he didn't even flinch when the raw spot was rubbed like that. Once it was all cleaned out, she applied healing ointment to the raw spot then carefully covered it with a soft pad which she taped to the undamaged skin around it. That should keep it from getting infected. The rest was just routine stuff, patching him up here and there. Nina was a bit surprised by all the old scars which littered his torso, one in particular was a big scar that ran across abdomen and disappeared behind his pants right near his hip, the scar itself was nearly as wide as her arm. She couldn't even guess what had put it there.

"Okay, you're all set. But, you should be more careful with yourself, Mr. Nicolas." She said sweetly, patting his shoulder now that she had finished taping the last piece of gauze over a nasty little cut that wasn't bad enough to need stitches, but had been pretty close.

He blinked those dark eyes of his at her, cocking his head to the side as if she were speaking a foreign language. She just smiled at him again, but startled a bit when she felt a heavy palm ruffling her hair. The action itself was a bit sloppy, as if he were just imitating an action he had seen someone else do and had deemed appropriate in this moment. The way he almost hovered his palm over her head rather than actually touching her scalp as if he were afraid it might hurt her if he wasn't careful. But, he was gentle and the gesture itself was nice. Dr. Theo did the same thing whenever he was particularly pleased with something she had done. So she just gave him another big grin that only widened as she saw his cheeks flush a little pink.

"Good job, Nina," Theo's voice caught her off guard and she glanced over at him as he stood near the edge of the bed and glanced over Nic's various bandages and patches.

"Nothing major except the road rash on his bicep, but I cleaned all the debris out and put a sterile pad over it when I was done," She explained, but her face fell slightly when she noticed the hard look to Dr. Theo's eyes. He wasn't happy about something.

"Nicolas, how is your supply of Celebrer, you should have enough for another two weeks," The tone of the doctor's voice was too pointed for her to mistake it for a casual question after a patient's supply of a prescription.

She turned back towards the dark haired Twilight sitting next to her, not missing the sudden stoic expression he had schooled on his face as his hands once again began to move in those fluid series of gestures that she wished she could understand.

The look on Theo's face was one of irritation, "If you're almost out then you are using too much. You know what happens when you overdose on Celebrer Uppers to often? Organ damage, numbness, manic aggressive episodes... the list goes on. You're already old enough to have to watch out for signs of Celebrer poisoning, overdosing on the uppers is really pushing it. You'll kill yourself at this rate, no need for anyone else to step in."

Even Nina shrunk back at Theo's tone, she had heard it a few times when he used it to call out patients he had discovered where abusing their pain medications or some other drug. But, unlike those patients, Nicolas didn't even bat an eyelash at the list of horrible side effects. If Nina didn't know Dr. Theo wouldn't speak up unless he knew for certain a person was guilty of what he was accusing them of, she would have wanted to believe Nicolas was so calm because he wasn't guilty of what he had been accused of doing.

To her surprise, Nicolas' lips curled upward slightly into a cocky half smile that made Theo narrow his eyes.

"Will you still be smiling when I refuse to fill your prescription until the date I have written down for when you are actually supposed to need a refill?" The threat wiped the smile from Nicolas' face as he frowned and shook his head.

"I didn't think so. I'll make an exception just this once because I don't feel like dealing with you going into withdrawals, but you better make these last as long as they are supposed to this time," Theo grimaced and turned to head back to the other end of the clinic once more.

Nina quietly reached out and poked at Nicolas' arm to get his attention, waiting until he looked at her fully. She wasn't really sure what to think about this Twilight, but he both did and did not match the descriptions of Twilights she had grown up hearing. The way he had smiled up at Theo in challenge had sent a chill down her spine and she might be young, but she wasn't naive enough to believe he had gotten all these scrapes and bruises from a tumble down the stairs. But, he had also been patient with her, not questioning her ability despite her young age, and he had been very gentle when he had kindly reached out to ruffle her hair.

"If I asked you to teach me Sign Language, Mr. Nicolas, would you?" She asked, blinking up at him with hopeful eyes and a light blush on her cheeks.

The question seemed to catch him off guard, that harsh expression on his face from the earlier conversation softening a bit. She fiddled with the hem of her shirt as he seemed to think it over for a moment. After a moment he asked out loud, "Why no' Th'o?"

Nina frowned a bit, not wishing to make him repeat himself. It wasn't easy to understand him when he spoke out loud, so she instead repeated what she thought he had said to make sure she had it right, "Why don't I ask Theo to teach me?"

He nodded and gestured toward her, obviously wanting an answer. Nina blushed a little bit again before looking back up at him with a nervous smile, "Well... Theo only has enough spare time to teach me things about being a nurse."

Nicolas sighed, obviously knowing that that wasn't the real reason. She wasn't surprised, every time he looked at her it felt like he could see right through her. If someone told her that this man could see into her head and know what she was thinking she would have been tempted to believe them. She blushed bright red and tried to muster up her courage.

She had agreed to come and work with Dr. Theo for a reason. It wasn't an accident that at ten years old she was already training to become a nurse and eventually a doctor, doing all of her regular schooling at home right along with the medical training Dr. Theo was giving her. When her mother had died, she hadn't been able to do anything to help. She understood that there wasn't anything she could have done to prevent that. But, this way she could help people now and in the future. This moment was just a reminder that medicine wasn't always the way to help people, some people needed more. They needed something beyond the physical, they needed help for them as a person on the inside.

"It might take me a year or two to learn it... I'm sorry if it is a little bothersome, but you would have to take care of yourself and... Well, it does sound like you need to take better care of yourself... If you do that and teach me Sign Language, I promise I'll try my best. Then you won't have to write things down when you come to the clinic." She had to force herself not to blurt it all out at once, though her cheeks felt like they would melt off if they got any hotter than they already were.

Peeking up through her bangs at Nicolas, she was surprised to see a very different expression on his face. All the harshness of it was gone, replaced with a sad little smile and an expression that was somewhere between kind and understanding. If he would just keep an expression like that on his face all the time, rather than the harsh frown, Nicolas would be just as handsome as Worick she decided. But, the sadness in his eyes tugged at her heart just a bit, she had never seen anyone with eyes like that. Like he had just seen something horrible and couldn't get the image out of his mind.

"Why yo' ca'?" He asked, voice very soft and almost too quiet to hear.

"Why do I care?" She asked, waiting for him to nod before she answered, "Um... Well, to be honest I've never met a Twilight before. I thought you would be scary... maybe a little mean."

He blinked at her, as if he was surprised that she was saying she found him anything but scary. With a knowing little smile she patted his knee, "I don't think you're scary, though. Plus, I wouldn't make a very good doctor if I didn't care about people, now would I?"

He just shrugged and stared at her as if she were sprouting a second head. It made her wonder if all Twilights were this surprised when a normal human took genuine interest in them, as if they were suspicious of some ulterior motive. She would have to ask Theo to explain more about them later. It certainly seemed like there was much more to the Twilights than simply labeling them as monsters. Or, perhaps, they were no more capable of being monsters than a regular human was. She had certainly seen firsthand how capable a normal human was of being one.

After another moment, Nicolas let out a heavy sigh then shrugged his shoulders, "Ah te'ch yo'."

"Really?" She asked, giving him a bright smile filled with excitement. He nodded and she clapped her hands, "How do I say 'thank you' in Sign Language?"

Once again that small smile crossed his lips and he held his hands out to perform the sign, it was a simple one much to her relief. She gave it a try, though it didn't look quite the same as when he did it. With an almost silent chuckle, Nicolas reached out and took her small hands into his own larger ones. They were rough and calloused, but warm and gentle as he positioned her fingers and palms just right so that she could perform the sign perfectly.

As they waited for Worick and Theo to finish whatever they were doing for the next half hour, Nina peppered Nicolas with requests to be taught various signs including how to finger spell his name and then her own. It was sporadic and seemed to be going without direction, but she enjoyed having him as a teacher. Theo was always clinical and precise in his teaching methods, but Nicolas was patient and kind. He would ruffle her hair when she got it just right or pinch at her cheek when she was getting too frustrated with what she was sure should have been a simple hand sign.

Finally Worick poked his head around the curtain and waggled his fingers within Nic's line of sight, grabbing his attention, "Time to go, pal."

Theo was busy with an elderly patient so Nina walked them both to the door, saying goodbye to Worick with a small smile before turning to Nicolas. They hadn't had much time together, but he had taught the few signs she had been able to ask him to show her. So she gave him a big smile and began to move her hands into the signs. She knew it was sloppy, not at all elegant like when Nicolas was signing, but she hoped he could understand her as her hands faltered through the signs, ' _Thank you, Nicolas. Take care of yourself.'_


	4. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not much is said about Veronica at this point in the manga. Just a few tid bits and wordless flash backs. I was pretty set on keeping away from doing any fics with her in them until Kosuke decides to reveal more about her, but this weeks episode of the anime gave me all kinds of feels when Nic was dreaming about her.
> 
> Since we don't know when/how Veronica met Nicolas, or even if they were romantic or just close friends yet, I'm not going to get specific on time frame or ages in this particular fic. Hope you enjoy.
> 
> Reviews are always loved and appreciated ;)

Sound had been a foreign concept to Nicolas for as long as he could remember. It actually hadn't even been a concept at all until he was almost ten years old. No one had ever sat down and explained it to him, or if that they he hadn't understood. It wasn't like his father or the mercenaries ever took the time to give him a means by which to communicate. It had been Worick which had given him the freedom of communication, through sign language and coaching him on speech.

He could still remember being a small child, long before meeting Worick, and wondering what it meant when the adults sat and moved their mouths into those funny looking shapes. Why would it cause reactions from the other ones around them that weren't moving their mouths? Why was it that sometimes he would be walking behind them and suddenly all of their heads would snap to look towards the same direction despite there having been nothing moving about? His whole world had been sight, scent, taste, and touch. He hadn't even been able to fathom that there was something else, something that he was unable to detect.

The first time he had realized that there might be something going on when people moved their mouths was when he was around eight years old. It had been cold and snowing and their mercenary troop had been stuck outside over night without tents. It had forced them to huddle together, even Nicolas had been allowed to pile up with them. First he had felt it, strange vibrations coming from the chest he was currently leaned up against. One of the more mellow mercenaries had allowed Nic to sit in his lap and lean against his chest for warmth while the adults sat arm to arm huddled around the fire.

When he turned around out of curiosity to see what was causing the rumbling vibrations in the man’s chest, he realized that what he was feeling synchronized with the way the man’s mouth was moving. Without even thinking, Nicolas had stuck out a small hand to touch the man's neck and then cheek, fascinated in how they vibrated as his mouth moved and stopped when his lips closed. He had been thrown from his lap then, but it had been quite a revelation all the same. It had taken him more than a year to figure out how to make those same vibrations rattle through his own chest and throat, though the mercenaries certainly didn't react the same way to him as they did to the others.

Now as an adult, he understood the concept as well as he ever was going to. Sound was a thing that existed for other people, but not for him. He was deaf and could not hear any of the noises around him. Noise was what made other people turn suddenly to look at something even when he saw nothing out of the ordinary. It was what happened when they moved their lips. It was something he made when he could feel his chest and throat vibrate with an exhale of air. Speech and words were hard to fathom as well. It was a thing he could do, sort of, if he tried hard enough. He could read and write words, but he had no idea what they sounded like. The letters made up the words, but words were just things he associated with objects, actions, or emotions. It was the same with mouth movements. It all matched up together and he knew that, but Nicolas had a feeling that his view of speech and words were different from a person who could hear, or at least who could remembering being able to head at some point in their life.

He didn't try as hard as he used to. Reading lips was something he was apparently very good at, but sometimes he wondered if people really understood how limited his understanding of a conversation was when they spoke to him. Even Worick seemed to sometimes forget that it wasn't a skill that gave him a complete picture of what was being said, forgetting to sign as he spoke and taking for granted that Nic was good at lip reading. He very much preferred just speaking and being spoken to with Sign Language. That was the only time he ever had complete understanding of a conversation. Everything else was just puzzle pieces he had to put together using context, common sense, and luck that the word wouldn't look like something completely different.

Even simple conversations like the one he was engaged in now were problematic at best. It was harder when there were multiple people involved, it was too much to try and keep track of. It was damned exhausting too. This wasn't a regular customer either, they probably hadn't even realized he couldn't hear them yet. The two men had called on Nic and Worick earlier that morning, now here they were talking to them. Which meant Nic had to keep track of three sets of lips.

"They sold... visions... last night-" The man turned his face to far toward Worick and Nic couldn't read his lips at all for a moment, "-Fade for... need everything back."

Nic rubbed the back of his neck in silent frustration. This man mumbled too much, it made his lips move strange and he was almost certain he was reading some of the words wrong while also missing huge chunks of the conversation. As far as he could tell, something had been stolen and they wanted it all back. If he didn't hate asking for Worick to repeat things for him as much as he did, Nic would have just given up and pretended to pay attention. It would have saved him a headache, but Worick didn't appreciate repeating things very much unless he had at least tried to understand on his own. It was understandable, Nic didn't really like talking out loud unless someone had tried to understand him with Sign Language first. Give and take, which was the motto of their lives... Or at least, it was for him.

"Well pay... when reborn... thing-" Nicolas stopped looking, there was no way that was right... What looked like 'reborn'? Maybe he had said 'reburn'? Was that even a real word? 'Return' maybe? That would make much more sense considering they had been speaking about things having been stolen earlier. He sighed, this was one he was going to have to rely on Worick to explain later.

Worick smacked him on the shoulder, indicating that the conversation was over and they were leaving. Nic raised an eyebrow, the look on their customers faces suggested the conversation had been ended prematurely. What had he missed this time? It had seemed like a relatively normal business conversation for them. But, he had missed a lot of it whenever they turned away from him or they had mumbled too much for him to read a word properly. Something must have tipped Worick off enough to give a bad vibe, it was written all over the blonde's face.

Once they had turned down a few alley ways, Worick turned around and signed rather than spoke, ' _That didn't smell right. Nobody calls us just to get back some stolen electronics from their store. That's police shit. I'm not sure what, but it was either a set up or they got something else stashed in their goods that they don't want the police to see.'_

Well, that explained a lot. Nic shrugged a bit as he slowly pieced together the blank bits of conversation and replaced misread words with ones that made more sense. He couldn't remember seeing if they had spoken about an exact amount on any payment, ' _What were they offering to pay?'_

_ 'That's the thing. They were low balling us big time. And they wouldn't budge on the amount. Like they had a very set amount they could pay without any wriggle room. Most new customers try to low ball, but when they hear how much we usually charge they at least try to haggle out something. They wouldn't budge at all. Even if this was legitimate request, they couldn't afford us to begin with anyway. Best to just cut our losses and head home,' _ __ Worick's hands moved slower than usual, as if he were thinking very hard while he signed. He did the same thing when he thought too hard while also speaking, Worick wasn't the best at multitasking in the world.

Nicolas reached out to wave his hand in Worick's line of sight to regain his attention after the blonde had zoned out as they walked, ' _I assumed they were nervous because they saw my tags. Think they were nervous about something else?'_

Worick shrugged, ' _Why do you think I'm only signing with you? If it was a setup, then we were being watched. I don't think we're being followed, but better safe than sorry, right pal?'_

Nic just grunted in response and glanced up at the rooftops with suspicion. He had very good eyesight and, with his reliance on it, if anything moved in his periphery he would notice it instantly. But, if they were being followed at the moment, it would have to be someone directly behind them that he could not see. It certainly didn't feel like they were being followed, but that was hardly anything to go by. At most, someone may be watching by having a few people posted here and there, but once the two of them walked past the invisible perimeter there would be no one following them.

_ 'Have I ever told you how much I hate it when people do that mumbling thing?' _ __ Nic decided to change the topic, plus he really felt like just complaining for a few minutes if he were completely honest with himself.

"From the way you describe what it's like to try and read a mumbler's lips, I'm guessing it's a lot like the telephone game," Worick said, this time signing as he also spoke out loud.

_ 'The what game?' _

"Telephone game. All the kids sit in a circle and someone comes up with a phrase and whispers it in the next kids ear. By the time it makes it around the circle the phrase is completely different than it was when the game started. 'See Jane run' turns into 'See Jane shave her legs' or some shit like that," Worick laughed a bit at himself as he signed, waggling his eyebrows and pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

Laughter was another one of those strange things that somehow seemed like it would make more sense if he could hear it being done. From Nicolas' standpoint, laughter looked really damn awkward. People's eyes would scrunch up, mouth would either clamp shut or fall open, they would slap their knees or take heaving breathes as their shoulders shook and their faces turned red. There was a reason he tried not to laugh himself. It felt as weird as it looked. He knew it was something that came naturally with finding something funny, but that didn't make it any less strange. He didn't like how it felt to talk out loud and laughing felt even stranger than that. At least most noise he made was on purpose, but laughter wasn't something easily controlled once it got started.

They made their way back home without incident and walking through the front door brought the familiar ease of home to replace the stress of watching all the dark corners of the outside world. They both trudged up the stairs and entered the living room, finding it just as they had left it. Worick moved to open the windows as Nic just quietly turned to head down the other set of stairs leading to their basement. It was dim downstairs, but not terribly so. He moved toward his bedroom and opened the door, finding the only light to be coming through the cracks left by the curtains drawn over the window. A small lump beneath the sheets of the bed moved, reacting to some sound he must have made.

Nicolas wasn't sure if he was being quiet or not, but he was trying to be as Veronica pulled the covers from over her head. Her dark hair was messy and he could tell by the flush of her cheeks that she didn't feel any better now than she had that morning. He doubted she had even been out of bed. It had been touch and go with her lately, sometimes feeling totally fine and others not having the energy to get out of bed at all. Her big brown eyes blinked up at him, a soft little smile tugging at her lips. He had to smile just a bit himself as her hands moved up to sign, ' _I'm glad you're home.'_

Nicolas loved seeing Veronica's hands sign. It was beautiful and elegant, making a hot feeling well up in his chest that he couldn't quite explain. It reminded him a bit of how Worick had once tried to describe to him that some people had beautiful voices, that he could just sit and listen to them talk all day no matter what the subject was. Nic didn't know anything about voices besides that they could make a person's chest and throat vibrate, but the Veronica's slender fingers and lovely palms moved to form the signs as she spoke to him was heavenly.

_ 'Feeling any better?' _ __ He asked, sinking down onto the bed next to her. There was still a bandage wrapped around one of her arms, where she had accidentally run hard into the edge of the counter and not realized it until she saw the blood. Her sense of pain was coming and going now, the beginning of the end and he knew it. But, they both refused to speak about it. Instead, they merely flitted about the subject’s borders and never actually breached it. They treated it like a cold, something that would eventually pass. Because both of them needed to believe that.

_ 'Just tired, that's all. I probably need to take another dose.' _

Nic just nodded and picked up the bottles of pills beside their bed, knowing these were hers since his own were upstairs. Her dosage had been changed just a month prior, now she received one more downer and one less upper with her daily doses. He counted them out as she slowly eased herself to sit up, smiling as she took the pills and the bottle of mineral water which had been sitting next to the bottles. Once she had taken them, she leaned against him as he let an arm drape around her slender shoulders. He could feel her breathing and that was comforting to him.

_ 'Want to go to sleep?' _ __ He signed to her, feeling her chuckle lightly as she looked up at him and nodded.

Nic watched as she settled back down, waiting for her to lay back down before he went upstairs for his own dose of Celebrer. Worick was seated at the disk with the radio in front him that apparently also made noise. Going to the counter, Nic counted out his own dose of five uppers and two downers. He wouldn't need another dose until morning, but he might be feeling a bit shaky if he slept in too much since this was earlier than he normally would go to sleep. He drank down the pills rather than the usual chewing, hoping that since he was taking them on an empty stomach the downers wouldn't hit him bad enough to send him running to throw up before he passed out.

He crawled back into bed with Veronica shortly after, snaking his arms around her and pulling her close as he buried his face into the back of her neck. She smelled wonderful. He couldn't quite think of how to describe her scent, but he knew it was perfect in every way. He could feel her chest vibrate a bit, she must have said something but it probably was in her sleep since she had signed it for him. Unlike Worick, Veronica never forgot to sign when they spoke to each other. In fact, she usually stuck to just signing with him rather than signing along as she spoke like Worick did. He liked that. It put them on equal ground.

By the time the downers had soured his stomach, Nic was already falling asleep. That was always the best case scenario for him. If he could just fall asleep before he upgraded from feeling his stomach sour to actually feeling full blown nausea, he'd be able to get through the night without puking. And any night he didn't puke, was a damn good night. Luckily, Veronica didn't suffer from the same negative reaction to downers as he did. They just eased her into a mellow state where she could stay awake and relaxed if she wanted to or have the most restful sleep of her life. But, for him it was always nausea and then being knocked out for at least an hour where no one could wake him up before the downers became a bit more diluted in his system and he could at least be roused from the dead sleep.

He wasn't sure what he dreamed about, but when he awoke he felt panicked.

Someone was holding him down and he couldn't quite breathe. He couldn't remember if he had been sleeping or had been knocked out during a fight, it certainly felt more like the latter. It felt like his heart was going to hammer right out of his chest as he struggled to gasp for breath. It was so hard to breath, like someone was physically clamping their hands around his throat. He struggled, thrashing around to try and get the hands off from around his arms and legs. Where was he even at? It was dark.

A light flipped on and he felt those hands yanked from his body, just in time to see that it was just the sheets he had been tangled up in. Veronica leaned over him, making sure he saw it was her before she pulled him towards her and cradled him against her chest. He gasped for breath like a fish out of water, not able to calm himself down enough to regulate his lungs just yet. He knew where he was and what was happening now, but the adrenaline and panic was still coursing through his body like electricity. He was wired up and unable to come back down, his chest physically hurt from how hard it was to breath. It felt like he was drowning, dying from lack of air.

Veronica just caressed his cheek and kissed at his forehead, her breath cool against his sweaty skin. Minutes passed and slowly, he got his breathing under control. His lungs sucked in air with shaking huffs and shuddering exhales, but eventually he had synchronized his breathes with her own. She was solid and real and soft. He was safe, he wasn't a child any more. There was nothing in this room that was going to hurt them right now. It had just been a dream. Whatever the dream had been, he had come out of it in a sheer panic. But, this happened often enough for both of them to know the drill once he was awake enough to understand what where he was and who was actually with him.

His chest still hurt when he finally was breathing completely normally and only his hands were shaking slightly. Before Veronica had come along, he had just suffered through this alone. It took less time to calm down with her there. Worick had tried to help him through it before, but he had mistaken his friend for someone else and fought back against him. After that, he had told Worick to just leave him be at night no matter what sounds he might make. He never wanted to hurt his friend. But, with Veronica... He always seemed to be able to pick out that it was her quickly, she was too slender and feminine to be mistaken for any of the men that haunted his nightmares.

_ 'I'm sorry,' _ __ He signed with shaking hands as he pulled away from her and reached to fix the sheets back to where they should be.

Her fingers slid across his shoulder and caught his attention before he could find where the covers had been thrown across the room, his eyes finding her soft features in the dim light cast by the street lamp outside their window. Those soft fingers of hers slid up his neck, making him shiver before she cupped his cheek in her small palm. She didn't say anything, didn't need to, as she shook her head and gave him a sad smile. Veronica understood, he didn't need to explain or apologize. That was what made her so beautiful. She just accepted him. He had no idea what he would ever do without her as she pulled him toward her again into a tight embrace. Soft lips ghosted the shell of his ears as her long fingers ran through his damp hair.

She was speaking out loud to him, he could feel her chest vibrate against his own as he let his head fall to rest against her shoulder. Her hands rubbed soothingly up and down his back. He knew it was a force of habit for most people to do that, especially when they were saying nothing but soft words of comfort. It was a habit he never held against either Veronica or Worick. Besides, when he was up close and could feel the words they spoke, it was relaxing. It reminded him they were still alive and unharmed. It helped him ease back down from that adrenaline high waking up from a nightmare and straight into panic put him on. Those soft vibrations against his chest in the silence was sweet, because when they sat like this he could feel the words he couldn't hear her speaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I based Nicolas waking up with a panic attack after my own experience with PTSD.
> 
> Also I'm checking for mistakes on my own and I have pretty bad dyslexia. I'm trying to catch mistakes before I post, but I'm seeing ones I miss as I go back and reread the previous chapters. I'll be fixing those as soon as I can, sorry for that.
> 
> Reviews are always appreciated


	5. Mother's Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minor spoilers regarding Nicolas' mother, but if you have read the manga and/or seen all of the current anime episodes then it's already covered the circumstances regarding her death.
> 
> This one is dark, so I feel the need to warn you it has child abuse, sexual abuse, and graphic violence. Personally, I have a hard time imagining Gaston Brown or any other mercenaries caring for a baby, so the next logical explanation was that they allowed Nic's mother to live and take care of him until he was old enough to be relatively self sufficient. So in this fic, Nic is about four years old.

The mercenaries had been drinking from those bottles again that night. Nic had learned relatively recently that the bottles with the amber colored liquid inside meant he should avoid the men as much as possible. After a while of drinking the stuff, they would become sloppy in their movements and the usual mean attitude would turn to outright cruelty. So tonight, he simply went to the spot that was always safest.

She was the only woman in the troop, though she hardly functioned in the same capacity as the men. She wasn't allowed to carry weapons and the men often hit her just as they did Nicolas if either of them got in the way. Nicolas couldn't remember a time not sleeping with her at night. No matter what happened, he would always end up held tight in her arms to ward off the cold. Her scent was distinct, it wasn't that of gunpowder and blood like the men. She had a more earthy scent and her long black hair smelled like a fresh spring rain. Nic liked the way she looked too, much more so than the men. She was a lot smaller than them, barely tall enough to reach the shoulders of the shortest man, and so much softer. She was thin and underfed, just like he was, but there was nothing harsh about her.

Nic hadn't seen very many women in his short life, only the roughed up whores the mercenaries would sometimes buy whenever they passed near a town. The woman that held him in her arms every night was much more beautiful than any of them. She had long jet black hair and creamy skin and big brown eyes. Her face was square with soft lines and little nose and full lips. She had most recently been given a new dress to wear after her last one had been torn. It was just a cheap green dress that hung a little too loose around her shoulders and fell down to just above her knees. They never gave her any shoes to wear.

Unlike the mercenaries, she never moved her lips into those funny shapes as they did. Her face was always stoic, never reacting to the men unless they approached her. She never fought them, merely allowed them to do as they pleased. More often than not she walked around with a black eye and a split lip, but she often would step in if they went after Nicolas. She would place herself between the small boy and the much bigger men, taking the blows herself.

Both Nicolas and the woman were avoiding the men tonight and her eyes softened as a small smile appeared on her face once she saw the little boy walking towards her. She held out her arms, bruised as they were, and he jogged towards her to be held in that safe embrace. It was cold outside and she was warm, her soft hands picking stray bits of dirt from his hair and licked her thumb before using it to wipe away a smudge of mud on his cheek. Then she simply held him close and tucked her chin on top of his head.

They always slept like that. Just the two of them while the men slept in their tents. Unless it was snowing outside, the woman and Nicolas were never allowed in the tents. If the weather was cold enough to snow, they would be allowed to sleep in the same tent as the one who gave them their food and medicine. A tall mercenary with blond hair. He wasn't the worst of the mercenaries physically, but he was the meanest in spirit. Nicolas had always found it strange that one with such a cruel personality would be the only one to offer them shelter when it snowed along with being the one to give them food every day.

Nicolas woke up to the cold, no longer surrounded by warm arms and soft black hair. He opened his eyes and turned over, finding the woman only a few feet away. Her dress was in a heap on the ground and the mercenary who fed them every day was there as well. He had her bent over with her hands braced against the trunk of a tree, his pants down around his ankles and he ground his hips into her rear. The woman turned to spare a glance at Nicolas and he could see tears in her eyes, a pained expression on her face as she chewed her lip until blood trickled down. When she realized he was watched, her eyes widened and she shook her head. She didn't want him to see and so Nicolas obediently turned over to face away from the scene.

The next morning, he awoke and was once again cradled in warm arms. She had been beaten again. One eye was swollen shut and surrounded by blackened, puffy skin. Her lip was busted open and her nose had dried blood around the nostrils. There were bruises around her neck in the shape of a large hand, as if she had been choked recently. It wasn't an unusual sight, yet Nicolas hated seeing her that way. She was always kind to him, the only person he had ever known that touched him with tenderness instead of cruelty.

He reached out a small hand and tucked a few strands of jet black hair behind her ear and smiled a bit as she leaned into his tiny palm. Her cheek was warm and soft, but she gave him a tired smile as he rubbed a thumb over the side of her jaw. It was just a small comfort, but he wanted her to feel better and it always made him feel better when she did this for him. She reached out and ruffled his hair then leaned forward and pressed her cracked lips to his forehead in a gentle kiss.

Their daily lives went much like that, just sticking together and avoiding making the men angry. Sometimes they were fed, but never as much as the men were. Many nights Nic would sit in the woman's lap and feel his stomach cramp up painfull from hunger, watching as the men ate their fill. They would throw out the leftovers and Nic knew that if he tried to pick up the thrown out food from the ground they would beat him if he were caught. But, if they forgot to feed them for several days, a beating was preferable to starvation. The small white pills they gave to Nic and the woman were remembered more often than food was.

Sometimes, Nic would be begin to feel shaky and sluggish if they forgot to give him the small white pill to chew on, but the woman would feel it much more quickly if they were forgotten. She would begin to tremble badly then eventually collapse onto the ground, forcing them use an injection rather than a pill. None of the mercenaries took pills like Nicolas and the woman did. It left the boy with the impression that the two of them were different in more ways than just size and gender from the mercenary men.

The next time the mercenaries went into a city, they chained the woman to a tree in the forest to keep her out of sight. They knew Nicolas wouldn't leave her side and so left him free to roam. When the mercenaries were out of sight he circled the trunk of the tree and inspected the heavy lock on the chain before circling back around and looking up at her. There was a few feet of chain that ran from the tree to where it was wrapped around her neck and locked again with another heavy lock requiring a key to open. There was already bruising appearing on her neck from where the heavy chains were biting into the skin. She had just enough slack in the chain to sit down or stand up, but not to take more than a step in any direction away from the trunk of the tree.

So Nicolas merely crawled into her lap as they waited for the men to return. The sun set and rose again before one of the mercenaries finally showed up, the usual one to give them their medicine. He gave them each a small white pill, then immediately left again. She sat chained to the tree for three full days, the one man coming to give them the pill each day and a little water, but no food. When the entire troop came back and set up camp, they didn't bother unchaining her and left her to sit instead. The smells of the food they cooked over the fire had Nicolas salivating, his stomach cramping painfully as he watched them eat.

He felt excitement for a moment, expecting to be given some of the leftover scraps since it had been so long since they had been fed. But, the mercenaries merely dumped the leftover food out at the edge of the camp, none of them even sparing the woman or the small boy a glance. Nic felt tears sting at his eyes, he was so hungry and there was food sitting there on the ground only a few feet away. But, he knew if he went for it now they would catch him before he could even eat a bite and beat him with their belts. It would be best to wait until they slept before risking the venture, but even knowing he might get a few mouth fulls later he couldn't help but feel despair.

He was only a small boy and he didn't cry often, but the pain in his empty belly was too much. The tears came down his cheeks and even the woman's gentle hands wiping them away as she held him close couldn't stop the tide. Eventually one of the men walked up to them and jerked him from the woman's gentle arms. Nic wasn't sure why, but the mercenaries always grew angry when he cried even he turned his face away so that they could not see the tears. The man shook him roughly by the shoulders, mouth opening and closing rapidly as his lips moved into various shapes. Nic could never understand why the men did that, but they would react to each other moving their lips like that and often grew frustrated with Nicolas or the woman for not understanding the meaning behind those strange mouth movements. Even though he tried, he couldn't stop the tears and in the blink of an eye the man's hand snapped out and backhanded Nicolas across the temple.

The little boy's head snapped sideways before he fell to the ground, the wind knocked out of his lungs and the world swaying slightly from the force of the blow to his head. It took him a moment to think clearly again as he began to taste blood in his mouth. When he looked up again, he could see the man had already taken off his belt and had it poised to strike. All Nic could do was huddle on the ground and use his arms to shield his face as the leather strap came down hard. It bit into his back like fire, causing the air leave his lungs in a rush as his chest and throat vibrated from the force of the breath leaving his mouth. Again and again the leather came down to bit into his small body, leaving bloody welts and shredded clothing in its wake.

Nic couldn't stop his crying, the pain was too much, and he eventually writhed about until he was facing the woman again. She was straining against the chains, her teeth bared and brown eyes fierce and angry. He had never seen her like that, it was frightening. Her arms were stretched out, reaching for Nicolas even as the belt came down to high and the leather struck across his face and tore into his cheek and split open his lip and nose. Blood gushed from his nostrils and he had to struggle to cough up the blood which had been sucked down in a breath. Nic rolled onto his back by accident, looking up wide eyed as the mercenary raised the bloodied belt again with cold eyes and a vile grin on his face.

He could barely see the blur of movement as something crashed into the man from the side, tackling him to the ground. Nic blinked and realized it was the woman, the chain around her neck dangling a tail with a broken chain link down her back. Her fist cranked back and came down onto the man's face and Nic sucked in a breath as his skull caved in. The dog tags around her neck slung wildly as she brought her fist down again and again, blood and brain matter splattering upon the ground. Time seemed to flow in slow motion as Nicolas watched, the kind and gentle woman who held each night with soft hands was beating a man to death. Her dark hair danced about her shoulders, blood glistened on her beautiful face, and her brown eyes were narrowed and filled with rage.

She was angry.

Just as the other men seemed to register what had happened, she was on her feet and snatched Nicolas up into her arms as she ran deeper into the forest. Nic could only hang on to her as she ran, her arms gripping him tightly as she sped through the dense overgrowth and dodged around trees. But, looking over her shoulder he could see that the men weren't far behind. She was zig zagging back and forth just enough to keep them from getting a good aimed shot with their guns, though more than once Nicolas saw bark exploding from a tree not even a foot from them as a bullet bit into it.

He was scared and all he could do was squeeze his eyes shut and focus on the feeling of her strong arms holding him tightly. The rise and fall of her long strides as she ran, the sudden slip before she would catch herself then continue forward, the way her chest heaved as she sucked in air... That was the rhythm he tried to breathe too, finding that he was subconsciously holding his breath as he clung to her.

Opening his eyes, Nic realized the mercenary he feared the most was right on their heels. The one that fed them and gave them the pills, the one who wore a patch over one eye, was quickly gaining ground on them. His eyes were hard and angry as he slowed his pace and lifted his rifle, taking aim. Nic sucked in a breath as the bullet burst out of the barrel with a pop of fire then suddenly the woman holding him pitched forward just as blood sprayed out from her shoulder. The hot liquid hit Nicolas' cheek as she lost her grip on him and they hit the ground and rolled.

Nic slid to a stop a few feet away from her and felt relief flood him when she moved, but it left as quickly as it had come. One hand gripped her bleeding shoulder and the other shook as she tried to stand, but blood poured from her mouth as she collapsed back to the ground. He wanted to crawl to her, but froze in fear as the man who had shot her stepped up beside her. A small smile tugged at the mouth of the mercenary, his eyes narrowed and his walk having turned into a swagger. He pulled the pistol from the holster at his side and put two bullets into her legs as she tried to crawl away.

All he wanted to do was move, but Nic's muscles refused to obey. He sat on his hands and knees, frozen in fear as he watched the woman turn towards him. Even with blood pouring from her nose and being coughed from her lips, she tried to crawl towards the small boy. Her legs dragged behind her, but the man planted a heavy boot into her back and stopped her movement. Instead of looking back to see what was happening, she kept her eyes on Nicolas and reached out a shaking hand toward him. Her fingers stretched out, reaching for him and he only needed to crawl forward a few inches for her to be able to caress his cheek. But, his knees shook and he couldn't do it.

He watched in horror as the pistol was aimed at the back of her head and finally his arms obeyed his wishes. Nic reached out, fingers brushing against her own just as the pistol was fired.

Her hand dropped like dead weight and the bullet exited through her temple, thumping into the dirt just a few inches below the spot where Nicolas' right knee trembled in the dirt. Her head hit the soft earth and blood poured out from the hole as her eyes went dead. This wasn't the first time Nicolas had seen a person die, he had seen several mercenaries brought back wounded only to die as they were being treated. But, this was different. He hadn't cared for the men, they were cruel and uncaring. The woman had always cared for him, protected him.

Now she was dead.

He thrashed wildly as the man yanked him up by the collar, then simply tucked him tightly under his arm despite his kicking and flailing about. They just left the woman lying in the dirt, they didn't bury her like they had the men who had died before. They left her to rot where the wild animals could reach her. They didn't even spare her a second glance.

Nicolas always slept alone after that. Outside in the cold, the mercenary who killed the kind woman bringing him a small white pill each day and sometimes remembering to bring him food. She was the first and last person to treat him with kindness, with a gentle touch and loving eyes. It wasn't until he was much older that he understood who she was. He had figured out the mercenary who fed him was his father by the time he was ten years old, but it wasn't until he was older that he finally admitted to himself who the woman was. He hadn't wanted to think about it. Somehow, understanding that she was his mother made the memories even more painful.

Even now that he was in his thirties, Nicolas could remember her as clearly as it was yesterday. He had never known her name, he hadn't known how to read until he was twelve after all. He had no pictures of her, nor fond family memories. Only memories of warm arms clinging tightly to him in the cold night and soft fingers wiping the dirt from his face. Whenever he looked in the mirror, he could see both of his parents looking back at him. Nic had his father's face, but he had his mother's eyes. He had her hair, skin color, eyes, and even her small stature. He wasn't very good at it, but he tried to be kind like she had been whenever he could. He was also strong when he needed to be, just his mother had been. He fought when he had to, just like she did.

Even if he hadn't understood who she was when he was only four years old, he had loved her. Even now, thirty years later, Nicolas still loved his mother and he knew that that would never change.


	6. Variety is the Spice of Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those of you who have read the manga, probably remember Worick telling Alex about what a terrible cook Nicolas is. As I reread the manga for the hundredth time because I'm impatient and I can't handle the wait between each new anime episode, I came across it and got a little light bulb of inspiration. So I give you this little tidbit.
> 
> No spoilers here, just a little cutesy moment between Nic and Alex. Because I needed to write something cute after the last chapter.

 

Alex moved about the kitchen as she put the finishing touches to a pot of soup on the stove. The stock was already simmering and the meat and veggies she had added were all cut up and dumped into the liquid. It had been cold and raining all week so a nice hot bowl of homemade soup sounded heavenly. The only downside to soup was that it took a long time to make and other than needing a few stirs to make sure nothing stuck to the bottom, it was low maintenance. Worick was out with a client and Nicolas had his nose stuck in a book. Days like this, when Worick was doing his side job, she wasn't allowed to answer the phone. There just wasn't much to do.

She leaned against the counter and glanced over to where Nicolas was leaning against the wall right next to the window. He held a book in his hand, eyes slowly scanning each line. It struck her as a bit surprising, that a man like Nic was such a book worm. It was always his main activity whenever they had a day off or a few hours in between a job. Alex had never really been able to make herself enjoy reading, her attention would always wander away from the pages too quickly.

With a sigh, she bent down to open the counter where she had stashed a few cheap ingredients for just this sort of day. She had been meaning to save it for a day when Nina was visiting, but she needed something to do. Making cookies wasn't hard, but it was at least time consuming if she took it slow and the payoff wasn't anything to complain about either. As she set out the ingredients on the counter along with the bowl and other utensils she would need, Alex caught Nicolas giving her a few curious glances before his eyes would dart back to his book.

A small smile tugged at her lips as Alex tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Nicolas had slowly but surely begun to grow on her. When she had first seen what he was capable of as a Twilight, Alex had been afraid of him. But, over time she had begun to see that there was much more to him than met the eye. When he was overdosed on Celebrer uppers he could be aggressive and border on cruelty, but she had also seen him playing with Nina as well as the small gestures of kindness he had extended to her as well. Nicolas was stronger than a normal human was and when it came to killing he was a professional at it, but he was capable of being gentle when the situation called for it. She had also noticed he had a bit of a shy side to him at times. Now Alex no longer felt frightened of Nicolas at all. She still felt a little tension around him, mainly because she could never read how he was feeling or even guess how he might react to something she wanted to say or do.

Alex took her time measuring the ingredients and mixing them up. The handymen didn't have much in the way of kitchen appliances so she had to mix it by hand with a big spoon. That was fine, it just meant mixing the dough would take longer and the goal here was to pass the time. Once everything was mixed into the bowl, she dumped in some chocolate chips and resumed stirring. She watched as the pieces of chocolate mixed more and more evenly into the light brown batter, humming a soft tune to herself as she did so.

From the corner of her eye, she could see that Nic was once again eyeing her from his spot near the window. It wasn't unusual for him to do so, he would do the same thing to Worick if the blond was home. His dark brown eyes were as intense as always on his stoic face, but she no longer felt nervous when his gaze was on her at least. She just pretended to be engrossed with what she was doing. It was just part of the game they seemed to play with each other. Both were always aware of each other, watching but rarely interacting. Neither knew what to say to the other and so they just said nothing most of the time.

When his gaze lingered longer than usual, she looked up and met his brown eyes with her own blue stare. When he cocked an eyebrow at her before glancing down at the bowl on the counter, she just smiled and crooked a finger for him to come over. A frown flashed across his face for a moment before he dog eared the current page of his book and set it down. Alex just smiled at him as he came to stand on the other side of the little island counter of the kitchen from her. He leaned forward slightly, looking down at the cookie dough in the bowl with a curious expression. Nic had a surprising amount of curiosity once he felt comfortable enough around a person to express it and Alex was sure that neither he nor Worick had ever taken the time to make baked goods like this before.

He looked back up at her with a raised eyebrow and signed, ' _Pudding?'_

Alex smiled and shook her head, "No, it's cookie dough. I was going to wait until Nina was here to make them, but I thought it would be a nice way to pass the time."

Nic's eyes focused on her lips as she spoke, his head cocking slightly to the side before looking back down once she was done speaking. He didn't make any response of any kind, neither acknowledging he had understood her nor denying it. Smiling to herself again, Alex just held out the spoon for him, "Want to taste?"

Those dark brown eyes of his blinked at her before reaching out to take the spoon from her hand. The way he brought it up to his mouth and sniffed it before licking some off suggested he had expected it to taste sour rather than sweet. Alex watched as Nicolas' eyes moved back to look at her, now enjoying the batter covering the spoon quite thoroughly. It made her smile to herself. Nic was like a kid who didn't want to admit something she had made tasted good. He was too used to teasing and giving her a hard time to actually just compliment something. It wasn't anything personal against her that was just how Nicolas was.

She stuck her own finger down into the batter to get a bite of it for herself, lightly sucking on her index finger to get all of the sticky dough off before getting a smaller spoon to start putting balls of the dough onto the cookie sheet. Nic just stood there quietly, watching her lightly roll the dough into small balls before placing them onto the pan in uniform rows. Once she had the first pan full, she placed them in the oven and began to spoon more out onto the second pan.

"Have you ever had homemade cookies before?" She asked once she had finished placing the balls of dough onto the second sheet.

Nicolas's eyes watched her lips move, but he seemed a bit to content finishing up getting the dough off the spoon to actually respond so he just shook his head.

"I haven't made them in a long time. They are pretty good though and they make the house smell nice too," She murmured, smiling a bit as Nic set the now cleaned off spoon down on the counter.

_'W-o-r-i-c-k says I can't cook,'_ Nic signed, making a sour expression as if he didn't quite believe his friend wasn't just giving him a hard time.

"Ah, really now?" Alex chuckled a bit, remembering the conversation she had had with Worick about Nicolas' cooking skills or rather the lack thereof. Apparently, for all his skill with a sword, a kitchen knife was a bit out of his depth of expertise. Worick had painted a picture of a man who couldn't figure out a proper amount to cook for what number of people, who also cut his fingers up more than the ingredients, and who wasn't sure when to use salt and when to use sugar. She was pretty sure she remembered Worick mentioning Nic couldn't even cook noodles, but that may have just been his habit for being over dramatic.

Nicolas just shrugged and reached out a hand to drag a finger through the cookie dough before bringing it back up to his mouth. If it had been anyone else Alex would have told them that they had had enough or given them the speech about raw eggs, but it wasn't every day that she and Nic had a moment like this. A moment where there wasn't any tension or worrying about not understanding one another. Moments like this where it was easy and relaxed just didn't come along very often for the two of them and she didn't intend to risk ruining it by waving him away from cookie dough.

_'You understand my signs better now,'_ the comment caught her off guard as she watched Nicolas' hands flow from one sign to another. The subject change was unexpected, but she knew he meant it as a compliment.

"It's easier to understand than it is for me to actually do myself... I guess I still need practice," she blushed lightly, fumbling through a few signs as she spoke now that she had been reminded she needed to practice.

Those brown eyes of his watched her hands rather than her lips, a light smirk tugging at one side of his mouth as he glanced back up at her, "K'nd 'loppy."

"Sloppy?" She repeated, blinking as an embarrassed smile crossed her own lips when he nodded. Sloppy was still better than him claiming to be unable to understand her at all. Still, she blushed a bit and added a soft, "Sorry, I'll try harder."

The way Nic blinked and cocked his head to the side suggested he hadn't been wanting her to apologize for it. But, instead of correcting it he just shrugged, "Ith oka'. Ah 'loppy too w'en ah 'alk."

Alex couldn't help but blush and smile to herself. Nicolas rarely admitted having trouble with anything, much less actually comforting her at not doing well with Sign Language. It was hard to tell at times since he usually kept such a stoic expression, but she had noticed a few times when he didn't seem to have caught what had been said when someone else was speaking. Instead of asking them repeat or for Worick to translate it into Sign Language for him, he would just stay quiet and pretend to have understood. It wouldn't show that he had missed part of the conversation unless he was asked a question pertaining to that or if it was part of his instructions about a job.

She was about to respond when the little timer sitting on top of the stove buzzed and caught her attention. With a smile, she opened the oven and pulled out the first sheet of fully baked cookies and put the next one lined with balls of dough inside before closing it again. The sweet smell of cookies took over the house instantly as she began using a spatula to pick them off the pan and place them on a plate to cool. Nic had already snuck a few more bites of cookie dough while she was distracted, but she decided to keep pretending not to have noticed.

With a knowing smile she held out the small spoon she had been using to place balls of dough on the pans before, "Here, you make the next batch."

The way his eyebrows furrowed together was almost priceless, even his lips pursed slightly as if he just wasn't sure about doing that. When she waved the spoon at him a little he huffed out a heavy sigh and plucked it from her grasp before spooning up a glob of cookie dough. Obviously, he hadn't been paying much attention to how she had used her fingers and the inside of the spoon to press the dough into a ball before putting it on the pan. Nicolas just stared at it for a second before moving over to the pan and flicking the dough down onto it with a loud plopping sound. He looked quite pleased with himself, actually.

"You may want to roll them up into balls... first," her voice dropped off when she realized he was no longer paying her any attention.

If he hadn't been so focused on what he was doing, Alex would have thought he was just messing with her right now. Worick hadn't been kidding when he had told her that Nic belonged nowhere near a kitchen. He was perfectly happy spooning up odd amounts of dough and practically chucking them down into the pan. No two splats of dough were the same size or shape and she was pretty sure several were too close together. They definitely wouldn't be cooking uniformly. Some of the smaller ones would crisp up before the larger ones would even start to turn a golden color. Still, he looked like he was having fun.

The buzzer went off again and Alex quickly switched out the pan with the dough Nic had tossed on with the one that had been inside the oven. She scooped the baked cookies up with a spatula, quite pleased with how nice and round shaped they had turned out. He didn't wait to be asked this time, getting right back into spooning up dough and flicking it onto the pan with a smug look on his face. She had a feeling he was just happy to be 'cooking' something that was guaranteed to turn out good and she didn't mind not telling Worick she had mixed up the dough by herself.

She picked up one of the cooled off cookies from the nearby plate and nibbled at it while watching Nicolas at work. They certainly were turning out good, not overly 'cakey' but not so thin they were crispy either. They were melt in your mouth, just right. It didn't take Nic long to have what he felt was enough bunches of dough splattered haphazardly down onto the pan, which was too many cookies on one sheet she noted. When he looked up to see her eating a cookie, he followed suit and picked one up to eat himself.

_'Tastes good,'_ He signed with one hand, finishing off the cookie in just a few bites.

"We'll try one of yours next, should just be a few more minutes," She replied with a smile, not missing the light blush that crossed his cheeks at that. It wasn't easy to make him feel shy, but when she did Alex always found it endearing. Nic had a way of just blushing a faint tinge of pink in his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He would rub a hand on the back of his neck and purse his lips slightly, eyebrows furrowed together and brown eyes looking down at his feet.

Once the timer went off again she switched the cooked cookies with the uncooked dough again and had to chuckle to herself a bit when she looked down at the pan. Some of the larger cookies had run into each other and needed to be separated while the smallest ones were a bit on the crispy brown side and the largest ones looked a bit on the gooey side. Glancing up at Nicolas she could see that he realized his mistake now and looked rather embarrassed.

Alex waved at him to get his attention before signing, ' _Variety isn't a bad thing. I like them crispy, but some people like the gooey ones. Now we have crispy, gooey, and ones in between. Something for everyone.'_

She had to resort to finger spelling the words she wasn't sure of, but she could tell by the expression on Nic's face that she had done well enough for him to understand her Sign Language. He just smiled lightly and shook his head, as if writing her words off as just trying to cheer him up. Still, he seemed to appreciate the sentiment. At the very least she wasn't lying. They had one of every kind of cookie here now. Small and crispy, big and gooey, medium and just right... They even had everything from a uniform circle shape to an abstract shape she didn't know a name for. Maybe she should introduce him to cookie cutters?

_'We should do this again with N-i-n-a. She would love this,'_ Nicolas signed, changing the subject as she began to separate some of the cookies that had gotten to close to each other while baking.

"Definitely, that would be fun. Does she like to cook?" She asked, beginning to scoop the cookies off the pan now that they were all separated.

Nicolas just shrugged and signed, ' _I think so. I never asked her. It just seems like she would find this fun.'_

Alex smiled and nodded, still finding their relationship heartwarming. She wasn't really sure how to define the two of them, but it was definitely a side to Nicolas that would otherwise never be shown if it wasn't for Nina. She brought out the kid in him it seemed. He would play with her whenever she came over, sometimes going to run errands with her if she asked. The little girl had him wrapped around her little finger that much was obvious. Nic loved Nina, anyone could see that. Alex couldn't decide if Nicolas acted more like a fun sort of father or a brother to the little girl. Personally, she had never really seen any examples of a fun father as far she knew. Her own had been too busy drinking to ever play with Alex or her brother.

Her smile turned a little sad as she thought about it a little more. Nicolas was definitely more like a brother. The way he was with Nina reminded Alex a lot of herself and what she remembered of being with her own sibling. He was perhaps more teasing and rough around the edges, but the basics of the relationship were still the same. Pushing the thoughts aside she looked up as she heard the door open, prompting Nicolas to follow her gaze.

"Damn, something smells good, Ally. You've been busy?" Worick's voice drawled into the room as he swaggered through the door.

"Nicolas helped me make some cookies, want one?" She asked, motioning toward the plate of mostly cooled cookies as the buzzer for the last batch in the oven went off.

Worick chuckled to himself and joined them in the small kitchen, gazing down at the plate before looking up and raising an eyebrow, "Gee... I wonder who made which ones."

Nicolas grunted and frowned, crossing his arms and pointedly watching as Alex began to use the spatula to remove the recently baked cookies off the pan. Worick just grinned that wicked smile of his and picked up one of the more misshapen ones before waving a bit to get his friend's attention. Alex could tell Nic was a bit irritated just by how he narrowed his eyes and grimaced a bit.

"Now... I wonder who made this little piece of art. What shape is this, Ally? Polygon? Splatter? Dollop shaped maybe?" Worick's voice was silky smooth, the look on his face suggested he knew he was pushing all the right buttons.

Nicolas grumbled a bit as he punched his friend in the arm, just hard enough to make Worick wince but not enough to bruise, ' _Asshole. Shut up and eat the damn thing or get out.'_

Worick just smiled apologetically and took a bite before an expression of surprise crossed his face, "Alex, you're either a miracle worker or we found the one thing Nicolas can't mess up in the kitchen."

_'I'm not that bad. You're being dramatic,'_ Nicolas waved him off dismissively, as if it was all no big deal.

They laughed together for a few minutes, though Nicolas seemed content with just eating a few more cookies and using his fingers to get what was left of the dough out of the bowl. Alex went for the more crispy ones that had come from the batches Nic had made. She hadn't been lying when she said she preferred them that way, but since most people didn't she had always made them more on the soft golden side despite her own preference. It had never crossed her mind that making a few smaller cookies would mean they would crisp up while the larger ones would be the soft ones everyone else liked. She would have to thank Nicolas for that little discovery later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm apparently having a bad day with my Dyslexia. On the second read through I picked up a lot of mistakes where I switched words around with ones that were close to them in spelling. I probably missed a few and they are still lurking in there. Hopefully they cause more of a giggle than a headache for anyone reading. I'll catch them eventually ;)


	7. Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Considering the subject matter of the actual manga/anime, I would assume anyone reading Gangsta fanfics would expect this, but just in case I'm gonna go ahead and warn that this chapter is all about drug use & abuse.
> 
> I guess to a very small extent this builds a little bit off the one shot I wrote about Nic and Nina meeting for the first time when she was ten and he was thirty two. I don't think you need to read that one to get this one, but it wouldn't hurt. If you guys think I should make this a part II for 'I don't think you're scary' just let me know. I'm on the fence about it myself to be honest

The two bottles of pills sat forlornly on the coffee table. There wasn't anything particularly eye catching about them. They were just the usual dark orange plastic with the white label wrapped around the middle and big red warning sticker stuck on the back. They had child proof caps and the tablets inside were small and even chewable, if you could stand the chalky texture and a taste that brought up mental pictures of raw sewage. They weren't any bigger than an aspirin pill and they certainly didn't look like the horse pills that made up most pain medications.

But, they were pure poison.

Celebrer, when you got right down to it, was a nasty business. Twilights were born hooked on the stuff, addicted to it even while in the womb. And from the moment they were born, they had to be given tiny doses of the stuff just to stay alive. Normal human children viewed medicine as some awful thing to be avoided. They would kick and scream and whine and cry just to avoid taking something as simple as a cough syrup.

Nicolas could remember being very, very young and actively longing for the moment his father would hand him just one little pill.

He used to look forward to the thing like most kids looked forward to Christmas. Back then, he had only been given just enough to stay alive. Such a low dose rendered him into an almost zombie like state. It made him sluggish and his limbs ached and felt too heavy. Thoughts would get jumbled in his head and by the time he was handed the next pill he would have the mother of all migraines. It was given to him right after the meal he was given once a day. Then, because they made him sick, he would have to wait until it was time to sleep to be given a downer.

For a blissful hour or two, he would almost feel good. Taking uppers all by themselves gave him a high that was oh so sweet. He would not feel sluggish and would have perfect focus. His limbs would even feel lighter. But, low doses only lasted so long. Once Worick had purchased him from his father, the doctor hadn't realized that the mercenaries hadn't been giving him the right dose. So when he had handed Nic what the doctor had told him too, it had been four pills instead of one.

The difference had been night and day. He felt real for the first time. Not like a phantom just floating about life, making motions and sometimes attempting to act human. The full dose had put him on cloud nine, even the downers hadn't hammered him as badly as before. Twenty years later and his recommended dose had nearly doubled since then. Not that he followed those dosage instructions.

No, he had to be a bastard and take more. His excuse when the overdosing started had been that it made him stronger in a fight, more focused. And when you're missing one of your senses, focus is pretty damned important. That had begun about five years ago. Now he overdosed every time he took the drug, not even bothering to hide the fact anymore. Every time he took a double dose Worick would give him a look that reminded Nicolas of a whipped puppy. Like every extra pill was slap to the other man's face.

Nicolas wasn't stupid, he knew exactly why Worick had insisted they go to Theo's clinic earlier that day. It certainly wasn't to patch up the little cuts and bruises that Worick had used as an excuse to drag him there. Nic could have handled things like that on his own without a problem. He had always done his own stitches when he was a kid, before Worick had stopped being squeamish about needles at least. The minute Theo and Worick had ditched him to go talk alone together, he had known something was up.

He frowned at himself a bit as the memory of Nina smiling up at him flashed through his mind. She was a strange one, but in a good way. He had never gotten that close to a child before. They usually ran away crying the second they spotted his tags. But, not Nina... She had just glanced from where the tags hung around his neck and gave him the biggest smile he had ever seen. A big toothy grin with eyes crinkled up and almost squeezed shut. Kids were uncharted territory for him. His only experience with children were his own childhood and Worick's, neither of which were exactly good examples. But, he was pretty sure that Nina wasn't normal either.

It had actually made him cringe a bit when he had realized she understood what Theo had been talking about. That he was overdosing on Celebrer, going through a month’s supply in half the time it should have taken him. The way her big blue eyes had watered a bit when he had turned back and looked at her might as well have been a knife in the gut... Actually, a knife in the gut would have hurt less. He had only just met her, but she had made him feel warm. She had called him kind. That was a word no one had ever used to describe him before and it felt good, better than a Celebrer high.

Nicolas felt the vibration in the floor as a door closed and Worick walked towards him, likely curious about why he was just sitting there staring at his drugs like the dog that caught the car. It had been an hour since he should have taken another dose and he was starting feel just a little sluggish. Not badly and he certainly wasn't going into withdrawals so soon, but not having the uppers did make him feel like he could just go to sleep if he laid his head down for even a moment.

Worick slumped onto the chair on the other side of the coffee table, waving his hand to get Nic's attention. He just blinked and looked up at the blonde, narrowing his eyes slightly as Worick began to sign, ' _I'm sorry about the thing with T-h-e-o today. But, you're going to poison yourself if you keep this up, N-i-c.'_

It was rare for Worick to sign without speaking, usually he did both or got lazy and made Nicolas read his lips. But, he would always use just Sign Language whenever he had something serious to talk about, like someone else might hear them and he was telling a secret. It wasn't like what Worick said wasn't true, Celebrer was just a pretty poison at the end of the day. But, it was poison that kept him alive. It wasn't like cocaine or heroin, where kicking the habit was hard but doable. At best, Nicolas could just cut back the overdosing to the times he needed to do so in order to stay alive. But, it was damned hard to avoid the high he was addicted to when the drugs that gave him that high were the same ones he had to take multiple times a day just to stay alive. Nic was pretty sure this was a perfect example of 'damned if you do, damned if you don't'.

He watched Worick from across the table, the drugs sitting between them both literally and metaphorically.

The blonde's face looked worn out and his hair was pulled back into a half pony tail. Worick's shoulders lifted up then rolled down, his mouth opening as he dipped his head forward. He had probably just let out a sigh. Nicolas could almost feel the tension, knowing that his friend was winding up to say something else. Something that would hurt, but he probably needed to have said to him anyway.

Sure enough, Worick's hands lifted up and began to move through the signs with that harsh, chopping accuracy that came with anger,  _'N-i-c-o-l-a-s, you're thirty two years old. That's old for a Twilight, but you're healthy right now. As healthy as most Twilights are when they are in their mid-twenties. That's a damn miracle and you know it. If you cut out this overdosing bullshit, you could live to be forty. But, if you keep this up? Eventually, something is going to shut down and you are going to end up stuck in a bed, hooked up to a bunch of machines, and I'll have to feed you through a tube in your gut. And that won't happen in ten years, N-i-c. You keep overdosing like this, that's going to be you next year.'_

The expression on Worick's face is horrible. A mixture of sorrow, anger, and hatred. Nicolas shifted uncomfortably, not completely sure how to channel what he was feeling into words. This heart to heart sort of stuff just wasn't his forte. The longer he goes without doing anything, the deeper the furrow between Worick's brows becomes. But, he just doesn't know what to say. He isn't sure why he does it. He thought he knew, but now that he is really thinking about it he just can't come up with a reason. Not a damn one. Taking a shaky breath he finally lifts his hands up and signs,  _'I'm sorry.'_

Worick makes a face and Nicolas can tell that his apology had the opposite effect that he had hoped. Instead, Worick was up on his feet, hands slashing through hand signs like he was trying to chip wood with his palms, ' _Sorry isn't good enough. You see that right there? You're going to take only the ones you're supposed to take and you're going to take it with downers. I don't care if you spend the rest of the day hurling because of it. Because, I'd much rather deal with you puking than having liver or kidney failure!'_

Worick pointed at the bottles of pills between them, watching expectantly. Frankly, Nic wasn't sure if Worick expected him to overdose anyway or if he really expected him to take the dose he was supposed to take. It physically hurt to sit there under Worick's gaze, like that blue eye was a power drill against his skull. He knew what the right thing to do was, but then he remembered that feeling of not having enough Celebrer in his system. How he had felt like a faded thing floating about the world, neither real nor human. What if overdosing had raised his tolerance? Was that even possible? Would he slip back into that horrible feeling of being half dead again if he cut back now?

He reached forward and picked up both bottles, first flipping over the bottle of uppers and reading the dosing instruction he hadn't looked at in almost a full year. Only five pills three times a day. Would that be enough to keep him feeling alive? Would he still be someone and not just something? He picked out the five tablets and popped them in his mouth, chewing them up because even if they tasted like the wrong end of an ass it was comforting. That chalk texture and nasty taste meant he had actually gotten the dose, it meant he would still be alive in the morning and not writhing around dying from withdrawals. Next came the downers, he was supposed to take two tablets three times.

These he didn't chew, instead swallowing them dry and looking back at Worick as he closed the bottles and held them out for his friend to hold. The relief on Worick's face was just as tangible as it was visible as he took the two pill bottles and placed them in his pocket. Instead of walking away, Worick slumped down onto the couch next to Nicolas and patted him on the back before signing, ' _I'm proud of you.'_

Nic just grunted and signed,  _'You know those downers are going to have me throwing up in half an hour, right?'_

Worick just shook his head and gave Nic a tired smile,  _'And then you'll sleep like the dead for an hour straight once you stop getting sick. Small price to pay to keep my bud around for another ten years in my opinion.'_

Nicolas rolled his eyes,  _'It wouldn't be so bad if T-h-e-o would lower my dose on the downers. Just enough so I don't get sick.'_

_'You know that isn't how they work. You gotta take enough to match up with the uppers you take,'_ Worick actually smiled a genuine smile this time. They had had this talk about downers and how they affected Nic badly many, many times. Usually the conversation didn't come after an intervention, but it was still nostalgic.

Nicolas had to smile a little bit despite himself at the thought. He knew he wouldn't quit overdosing completely. After all, it made fighting easier. The extra boost had helped him make it to his current rank of A/0. Only the absolute best were above him in rank and so far, he only knew of two or three Twilights higher than him in rank. One of which would sooner wipe the floor with him than sit down and have a heart to heart about drug abuse. He didn't like calling it that. Actually calling it what it was, drug abuse, made him feel dirty. But, he wasn't any better than a heroin addict. It was all different and yet all the same. He could remind himself he needed the shit to stay alive, but that could be countered with the fact that overdosing would kill him just as easily as missing a dose would.

A tap on his shoulder brought him back out of his thoughts. Worick smiled at him with a sly look on his face and waggled his eyebrows before he spoke, "You're surprisingly good with kids, by the way. I could hear her giggling while we were at the clinic."

Nic frowned a bit. It was hard to suddenly switch from reading Sign Language to lips without warning. But, he picked up on what Worick was saying easily enough. Even when he was focused, lip reading was, at its best, picking up the words he thought the mouth formed and putting them together. Then using common sense and context to fill in the blanks. And he had to do this fast enough to not fall behind in a full blown conversation. It was damned exhausting, but he had been told he was very good at it. With a sigh he simply signed,  _'She wanted me to teach her Sign Language.'_

"Really? You and not Theo?" Worick asked, this time signing as he spoke.

Nicolas nodded,  _'I don't get it either. N-i-n-a said I wasn't scary. She said it might take her a few years, so I had to take better care of myself so I could teach her.'_

Worick's expression softened, "Is that why you've been staring at the pills for three hours straight? And here I thought it was my speech. If I had known it would take a cute little kid to melt that ice in your veins I'd have gone and found us our own Nina. Maybe we can get one and have them answer the phone? Do some chores? Kids are good for that shit, right?"

_'You're a dumbass, you know that?'_ Nicolas laughed a bit, then leaned back on the couch a bit as he felt the downers start to kick in. The nausea was rarely instant, but the way they made him feel like he would pass out if he closed his eyes was nearly immediate. It usually took two or three hours before the downers would even out in his system and he would feel normal again.

"Maybe Theo will let us borrow, Nina? I hear she does really nice stitches. Maybe instead of handymen, we could retire and start a babysitting service?" Worick's hand signs were getting extravagant, like he always did when he was feeling dramatic while joking around.

Nicolas just stuck his tongue out and watched as Worick laughed at his own joke to fill the silence.

It had been awhile since they had just joked around like this. Things had been so tense lately, Nic could feel the unspoken words hanging between them. The Celebrer medication he had to take had been a thorn in their side since day one. Originally, it had been the expense of buying the drug that had been difficult. Then once they had branched out on their own, the overdosing had started gradually at first. Whenever he was about to go on a job where they expected trouble, he would pop a few extra uppers. Then it had turned into a double dose whenever he was going into a fight. That big of an overdose would send him right into one of those manic aggressive states that were on the warning label. But, it wouldn't be blind rage. No, it was actually a focused rage. It was exhilarating to feel like that. It was that focused rage that had helped him shoot up from ranking down in the B's though the levels of the A ranking to where he was now, one step down from S.

Nic frowned and hunched forward, leaning his elbows on his knees and wringing his hands together. He could feel the downers start to hit him in all the wrong ways. How his stomach was turning sour and his mouth was producing way too much spit, making him swallow it down again and again. Just the thought of puking his guts up for the next hour had him on edge. The anticipation was almost as bad as the actual sickness he got from the downers.

He blinked when he realized that Worick's hand was stuck directly in front of his face, fingers waggling. How long had his friend been trying to get his attention? He wasn't sure, he was starting to fall into that fog he felt from the tranquilizing effect of the downer. He felt like his head was moving in slow motion when he turned to look at Worick, raising an eyebrow.

"You look a little green there, Nic. Downers hit you worse than usual?" Worick signed slow and precise for him while speaking, as if he understood his mind was feeling as sluggish as his body was, "Shit, they don't usually hit you this bad. I was hoping they would just knock you out for an hour. Nap would you do you good."

_'That's why I've only been taking them right before I go to bed. If I fall asleep first I don't get sick as easy.'_

"Yeah, but doing that is worse for you. There is a reason you're supposed to take them together. The downers stabilize everything," Worick explained, still signing along for him as he talked.

Nic was glad for it, his vision was going a little screwy as the room began to rock beneath his feet. It was hard enough to read the hand signs, lips definitely were off the table. He sighed and leaned back, letting his head fall backwards against the couch and taking sudden interest in the ceiling. If he sat like this, it felt less like all the spit he had been swallowing was sitting right behind his adam's apple. If he could just pass out now, he might sleep it off and skip the date with the bathroom.

Worick tapping on his shoulder caught his attention and he moved his eyes from the ceiling to the blond's hands as they moved,  _'You need to go lay down?'_

_'If I move right now, I'm going to throw up,'_ He signed back, not missing the grimace on Worick's face.

"Then lay down on the couch, I'm sure I can find a pot or a bucket or something to have on hand in case you decide to call ralph." Worick's smile was shit eating as he signed, like he was making a bad joke but was also dead serious at the same time.

_'Who is R-a-l-p-h?'_ Nic signed back, feeling like he should have understood that but the downers had his mind so sluggish he felt like it was easier to ask for an explanation instead of actually thinking about it.

"No, not Ralph as in a person. Call ralph as in throwing up. If you say it right, ralph sounds like puking." Worick explained, hands signing a little faster than Nic would have liked at the moment.

Nicolas grimaced when his hands felt too heavy to sign, as if he had fifty pound weights on each finger. He hated taking downers. It felt like he was spinning and yet weighted down as he looked at Worick with heavy lidded eyes. He tried to speak but he could tell by Worick's face that it hadn't come out right. Downers put Nic into a state just shy of drooling on himself and he hated it. He could tell Worick was speaking again, probably trying to prompt him to try saying what he had been trying to say out loud again. But, honestly, Nic couldn't even remember what he had wanted to say anymore.

He blinked and noticed Worick was gone so he let himself slide down to lay sideways on the sofa. The movement made his stomach go from sour to nauseated and he could taste a bit of bile in the back of his throat. The feeling of nausea had him sweating already as he sat still, just hoping he wouldn't throw up. He felt a dip in the couch and opened one of his heavy eyelids to see Worick placing their rarely used empty mop bucket within Nic's reach. How thoughtful.

Nicolas wasn't sure when his eyes had closed again, but when they flew open next he was scrambling to reach for the bucket before he emptied his stomach contents into it. When he was finished he felt a few dry heaves keep him hunched over before he was able to spit the last of the acidic saliva from his mouth and flop back onto the couch. As much as he hated throwing up after taking his downers, at the very least he did feel better now that he had.

A hand patting his head and fingers running through his hair made him crack open an eye and glance sidelong at Worick. He wasn't sure when the other had sat next to him on the couch, but there he was all the same. The blonde's face had a soft expression as he gently petted Nic's sweat dampened hair. This was something they hadn't shared in a long time, since Nic had stopped taking his dosage of downers correctly. Before that, Worick had always taken care of Nic whenever the downers hit him particularly bad. Even on a good day, when they didn't actually make him feel sick enough to throw up, Worick would stick around to make sure he was okay for the hour or so he would be completely knocked out from the things. It had been dangerous back when they were kids living on the streets. Nicolas would be completely dead to the world for an hour or so after taking a dose of downer and Worick would have to keep guard until he was able to wake back up. Honestly the building could catch fire and burn down around him but if he was passed out from a downer even being burnt wouldn't be able to rouse him.

Nic felt his eyes closing again as sleep slowly began to creep up on him. All of his limbs felt heavy, as if they had fallen asleep and were just dead weight now. His stomach still felt sour, but at least the worst of the nausea had left him along with his stomach contents. Worick wanted him to still be around ten years from now, but Nic wasn't sure he could handle ten more years of doing this multiple times a day, every day. It wasn't that he particularly wanted to die. It was just that this was very tiring.

It wasn't just the effects of the downers that made Nicolas feel completely worn out, like he had been stretched too thin and not allowed to sleep for days on end. He was completely exhausted. Exhausted with this medication he had needed several times a day since the day he was born. Exhausted with the segregation between Twilights and Normals, the hatred and fear between the two. He was tired of constantly having this back and forth with Worick about his lifespan. Worick wanted Nic to live a long life, wanted him to grow old. What Worick seemed so set on denying was that Nicolas already was old, very old actually. Twilights were called just that because of how short their lifespans were. Most Twilights died of Celebrer poisoning in their mid to late twenties. A Twilight living to be thirty was rare. Nicolas had turned thirty-two just this year and so far he hadn't yet shown any of the early signs of Celebrer poisoning.

But, it was just a matter of time.

His regular checkups with Dr. Theo had changed in the past ten years. When he had turned twenty-five, Theo had begun to warn him about early signs of organ failure and that he shouldn't ignore any out of the ordinary pain or discomfort. Then when he had made it into his late twenties, it had turned into keeping an eye out for losing his sense of touch and pain on top of watching out for organ failure. Now Theo had him looking out for all of those things plus any unusual headaches, loss of memory, and other things like that. It just meant that he was that much closer to the end and he knew it. Worick talked about him being around for another ten years, but Nic knew better than to think he would live to see forty.

It was simply unheard of. Even if he never overdosed again for the rest of his life and carefully watched after his own health every day after today, he could still suddenly show symptoms of Celebrer poisoning out of the blue one day. That was just how it worked. One day a Twilight would be fine, then the next their bodies would start to show a few little signs. Once those signs showed up, it was a long slow spiral to death. Their bodies would slowly shut down bit by bit. Most of them didn't have anyone who cared enough to give them medical care during those last few months or even year of their lives. So more often than not, they would actually slowly die of starvation because they couldn't move much less feed themselves. Or worse, they would die from not being given Celebrer anymore. Either way, there was no pleasant way for a Twilight to die.

In all honesty, Nicolas would much rather die because someone else killed him. It might be painful, but it wouldn't be slow. He knew Worick would do whatever it took to take care of him, keep him around for just that much longer. But, Nic didn't want to lay in a bed for months or a year slowly dying bit by bit. He didn't want that any more than he wanted to die from Celebrer withdrawals. At least if he died fighting, it would have been on his own terms. Every time he jumped into a fight, he knew he might die and that was okay with him. It was the spark of doubt and fear that any unusual ache or pain was going to be the one that heralded his slow death that bothered him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went through and did a minor edit on this chapter. I realized I hadn't put the dashes between letters of names used when they are speaking in Sign Language. I went ahead and fixed that so it shows they finger-spell the names when speaking in ASL. (I know the anime/manga uses JSL, but I have more access to ASL info so I rely on that)


	8. Am I a Monster?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for young Nicolas and Worick (Though it's been covered in the anime already). 
> 
> I wasn't going to post this until next week, but then I started getting all these nice comments from you guys. They gave me a big head and also warm fuzzies. I like warm fuzzies, I like them a lot. So I'm posting this early . 
> 
> I'm going to try and get to replying to new commentors (commenters? Apparently this isn't a word according to auto check, it wants me to say commentators, but that feels stuffy so i won't) today. I like to at least reply with a little response/thank you the first time someone comments. I just feel like a rude stick in the mud if I don't. 
> 
> I need to rewrite the story summary. It only pertains to the first one shot... But, I suck at summaries and I'm lazy about them. I've had too much coffee this morning and now I'm overly chatty.

 

Wallace shivered a bit as he finally steered the smaller boy into his bedroom where they would be safe from prying eyes. It hadn't been easy to procure the money necessary for purchasing a Twilight, it had taken a lot of craftiness and sneaking around on his part, but he had done it. The vile look on Gaston Brown's face was still burned into his memory, where it would stay forever preserved in perfect clarity until the day he died. The man had sold his own son like one would sell spare parts. At first, the man had scoffed and thought Wallace was joking, but once he had seen the money he had just sneered a nasty smile.

"You do realize he's dying of Celebrer poisoning, right? It's like buying a race horse with a broken leg. What's the point?" Gaston's voice had been rough, deep and angry sounding even as that nasty grin spread across his face.

In all honesty, Wallace hadn't cared if Nic was going to die the next day or the next decade. He wanted his friend to be with him, to be free of the cruel men who mistreated him. Even as terrible as his own father was, Wallace knew it was worse for Nic. At the end of even the worst of days for Wallace, he wasn't a slave. When everything was said and done, Wallace had three square meals a day and could avoid his father for the most part. Nicolas was lucky to eat watered down broth once a day and had to watch out for more than just one man that might beat him. And, even though Wallace had been working every day with Nic to help him learn Sign Language and lip reading, he still didn't have a chance to understand the mercenaries most of the time. Wallace had picked up that none of them were patient with the boy even when he was around to witness their actions, it could only be worse behind closed doors. Nic had gotten much better at lip reading since Wallace had been coaching him on how to read and write and spell, being able to judge words and letters based on the way the lips moved made it much easier for Nic when reading lips. But, the mercenaries didn't care if they faced Nic well enough for him to read their lips, they would just yell and point then beat him until he got it right.

Wallace watched as Nicolas just sat down on the floor, still wearing the wet clothes. He was still sick, his wounds infected and then there was the matter of his Celebrer. The doctor had taken quite a bit of convincing to even bother to explain what sort of dosing a boy of Nic's size would need from the drug. He knew Nic had already been dosed that morning, he wouldn't need another until closer to the middle of the day and then again at night. For now, he needed to dry the other boy off and get him out of those wet clothes.

Nic was almost like a doll, so still it almost looked as if he weren't even breathing. Those big brown eyes blinked every now and then, but were locked onto a spot on the floor in front of him. All of the bandages on him were soaked and needed to be replaced. Wallace just sighed and moved into the bathroom to grab a dry towel. Nic hadn't moved at all when he came back and knelt down near the smaller boy. The kid looked at him with bloodshot eyes, slightly puffy as if he had been crying recently. Wallace knew he hadn't, he would have seen the tears.

Reaching out with the towel Wallace began to gently dry Nic's hair, wiping away stray droplets of rain water from the Twilight's face as well. Even now that he knew what Nicolas was, what he was capable of doing, Wallace still had trouble thinking of the small boy as anything but fragile. He was so small and skinny, always covered in cuts and bruises. Whenever they had had arm wrestling matches together Wallace had always been the winner, easily pinning the too skinny arm of the other boy every time. Once Nic's black hair was dry, Wallace carefully peeled the soaked tank up and over the boy's head. Wallace had only caught a glance of Nic's bare torso when the doctor had treated his badly infected wounds, but now that he could look up close it made his stomach turn sour.

Nicolas was emaciated.

Wallace could clearly count each rib in the other boy's rib cage, his collar bone was way to blatant, his stomach was sunken in even with the bad swelling around the infected stitches, and even with the sweat pants still on Wallace could see that his hip bones jutted out quite clearly. Nic was half starved in a way that suggested he hadn't eaten properly in years, if ever. It certainly explained why Nic was so small for his age, he was only a year younger than Wallace and yet a full head shorter.

"Nicolas?" Wallace asked out of habit before reminding himself Nic couldn't hear him. With a sigh, he waved a hand within Nicolas' line of sight so that the boy turned to look at him before continuing, "How often did they feed you?"

Nic's dark brown eyes went from Wallace's lips to the signs he formed with his hands, using both to pick out what was being said. Neither of them had mastered communicating with each other yet, but they could have conversations now. Simple ones, with easy words, but conversations all the same. Once the question had been asked, Nic seemed to mull it over in his head for a moment before trying to answer. The words came out too quiet and garbled to understand, which at the moment was preferable to Nic accidentally speaking too loud. Wallace had no idea what his father would do if he found out he was caring for Nic in his bedroom right now.

"A little bit louder," Wallace said with an encouraging smile, not at all surprised when Nicolas reached out a small hand to rest the palm against the side of Wallace's neck. The blonde just smiled and said, "Try again, like this."

He knew Nic was feeling for the vibration in his throat as he spoke, using it as a comparison to what he felt in his own chest and throat when speaking. It had become the easiest way for him to regulate his volume when trying to speak, matching the vibration to Wallace's own. Nic licked his chapped lips before trying again, "W'en mem'r me."

Wallace tried to hide the grimace, though he hadn't exactly expected to like the answer. Talking out loud was hard for Nic, though he had gotten a lot better at it since Wallace had been helping him. After months of practicing together, Wallace could understands Nicolas' difficult speech fairly easily but still he wanted to clarify, just hoping that he had heard him wrong, "When they remembered you?"

Nic nodded, brown eyes watching as Wallace's eyebrows furrowed. The worst part about this for Wallace was that he knew Nicolas had no idea that not eating at least once every day wasn't normal. In fact, he was almost certain Nic hadn't even realized being beaten by the men in his mercenary troop wasn't normal until he had noticed the stark contrast between the way Wallace's parents treated him and his brother Michel. Wallace was always forced to eat alone while his father, stepmother, and half-brother ate together as a family. But, he had been fed. He knew how bad it hurt to walk by and see them eating together while he had been forced to do so alone. He couldn't even imagine what it would be like to be starving like Nicolas was, forced to watch the mercenaries eat three meals a day and just hoping they would remember to give him something to eat that day at all.

"I'll sneak down to the kitchen later and get some soup for you. I know you haven't eaten today," Wallace said, signing as he spoke. He could remember all the correct signs, it had only taken going through the book once. But, remembering the images of the hand signs and what they meant wasn't the same as actually moving his fingers and palms correctly. It was the first time in his life that his photographic memory hadn't stolen a learning experience form him. It was also the first time he enjoyed learning something. Sign Language was challenging, but in a good way. The word order for signing a sentence was completely different from spoken English and Sign Language lacked 'be' words and also articles. It sounded a lot like caveman speech in his head, but he could certainly appreciate the efficiency of the language. Not to mention that it was beautiful to watch someone who was fluent use Sign Language to speak. Nicolas was still self-conscious and unsure with his signing, but he had surprisingly long fingers and broad palms for a boy his size. Wallace had already decided he liked how those long fingers looked when signing.

That vacant look fell back onto Nic's face and it made Wallace frown. He had expected his friend to be... happier? After all, Wallace had just purchased his freedom out of slavery. It was obvious the mercenary troop had never treated Nic well. He was malnourished and always sporting cuts and bruises from their continuous abuse. And yet, somehow Nicolas looked sad. At first he had assumed it was some cruel comment Gaston Brown had made as the mercenaries departed the estate for the last time. But, now Wallace wondered if that really was the case. He couldn't imagine any reason for Nicolas to be sad about finally being saved from those men.

With a frown, Wallace tapped the smaller boy's shoulder again before asking, "Why are you sad? I thought you would be happy... That captain and the other mercenaries can't hurt you anymore and I'll make sure you eat every day. If it's the Celebrer I already have that handled. You don't have to worry about running out or anything."

Nic's eyes watched his lips intently, face unchanging as that same sad smile Wallace had seen earlier reappeared on his face. Lifting up his hands Nic signed, ' _Father. Left me.'_

"Father?" Wallace repeated as a feeling of dread settled down into his stomach, "Wait... Gaston Brown was your father? Your real father? I thought you just had his last name because... I mean, don't Twilights have to use the last name of their... owner to identify who they belong to?"

Nic squinted at his lips and Wallace knew he was talking to fast in his sudden panic for the other to read them. How could he not have realized that? He had read that it was common for Twilight children to be given the last name of their owner, it made paper work and other issues with red tape easier. It was similar to how they would have the name of the organization they belonged to on their tags. Wallace had never considered that Nicolas might actually be Gaston's biological son. Now the knowledge was like a punch to the gut. He had just paid his only friend's father to abandon his own son...

"Waw'ick, o'n me?"

That small voice struggling to speak had never hurt his ears before now. Nic's voice was rough and he struggled to speak, but the sound of it had never actually hurt his ears before. Now he wanted nothing more than to slap his own hands over his ears to shut out the sound. Wallace's own name was one of the more difficult words for Nicolas to say, the way he couldn't pronounce the sound of an 'l' along with making the 'c' come out sounding like 'ck' instead of an 's' sound. But, it wasn't the almost unrecognizable pronunciation of his name that hurt his ears, it was the two little words following it. The words made Wallace feel dirty, like he was the worst kind of person to be right now.

Nicolas wanted to know if Wallace owned him now. And what was he supposed to say? Legally, Wallace did own Nicolas. Twilights were slaves, outside of a guild which had been established in Ergasustlum that was the only way they could exist. Stray Twilights without an owner would be caught and hauled off to the quarantine zone of Ergastulum in chains. There they would either be sold to the highest bidder or taken in by the guild who would then sell their services as mercenaries for hire. Either way, they were destined for servitude. The best a Twilight could hope for in this day and age was a kind owner since the guild would only be interested in the most physically capable of Twilights brought into the city. And that realization made Wallace feel like he was going to throw up.

The sour feeling in his stomach made him salivate and he had to run for the bathroom when he felt his last meal starting to come back up. Images of the paperwork he had filled out with Gaston Brown popped into his head with perfect clarity as he wretched and heaved over the toilet. Actually, it was very similar to the paperwork he had seen his father sign when purchasing a horse for his brother Michel to ride. Just a few sheets of paper detailing how and where to send the paperwork to show who Nicolas' new owner was, another sheet giving a brief description of his appearance along with a few lines of blank sheet where an 'owner' could write in faults. Gaston had written 'deaf' in careless letters there. The final part of the papers had been a simple print, sign, and date for previous owner and then again for the new owner.

At the time, Wallace hadn't even thought twice about signing it before handing the money over. Now the mere thought of it had him puking his guts up and dry heaving when there was nothing left to hurl. When he was finally finished, he turned from where he sat on the tile floor to see Nicolas standing in the doorway watching. Nicolas... his first and only friend... was now his slave.

Wiping his mouth, Wallace realized that at some point he had started to cry. The tears just kept falling and he didn't know if he was crying over his own stupidity or for Nicolas. Maybe he was just crying for all of those reasons.

"I'm so sorry," He whimpered, signing along as he spoke with trembling hands.

Nic just cocked his head to the side and signed, ' _Why?'_

Wallace grimaced, knowing the answer would be too complicated for Nicolas. It wasn't that the boy wasn't smart, actually Wallace had figured out that Nic was extremely intelligent despite his utter lack of an education. It was just the communication barrier that still existed between them. Neither was good enough with Sign Language for them to rely on it fully and Nic wasn't good enough with reading lips to follow a lengthy explanation. Writing it down wasn't an option either, Nic was still just learning his alphabet and how to write his own name after all.

"I didn't know he was your dad," Wallace answered, trying to keep his lips steady and not trembling.

"Waw'ick o'n me no' ?" Nicolas asked again, face as stoic as ever.

Wallace had never felt shame before. He hadn't felt ashamed when he had found his mother had been a prostitute, that he was a bastard. He hadn't been ashamed when he realized he wasn't loved like his brother was. He hadn't even felt shame the first time his father had hit him. But, he felt shame now. Shame that he had purchased his friend like one would buy an animal. At the time, he hadn't thought about it in terms of purchasing a slave that he would own. It had been about saving Nicolas... Saving Nic from the abusive mercenaries that treated him like a dog, saving him from his family's doctor who didn't care to treat him... But, he hadn't saved Nicolas at all. He had just bought himself a slave.

"Yes," Wallace answered as a fresh cascade of tears fell from his stinging eyes. He sniffled and rubbed his eyes, feeling nauseated again.

"Fa-" Nic stammered a bit on the word before trying again, "Fath'r thell me?"

"Yes."

Nicolas frowned as if trying to process all of this new information. In truth, Wallace wasn't even sure what it all meant. When he had given Gaston the money, he had done so wanting everything to change for the better. He had wanted Nic to stay with him and always be his friend. He knew he would treat Nic better than the mercenaries ever had. But, he had also done so because Wallace was selfish. He couldn't bear the thought of going back to always being alone. Looking at his friend's face now, he could tell that things had certainly changed. The moment he had purchased Nicolas from Gaston Brown, the two boys' relationship had changed forever. Wallace just wasn't sure if it was for better or worse yet.

Wallace blinked as Nic walked towards him, moving to sit next to him on the cold tile floor. In the harsh lights of the bathroom Wallace could see the outlines of all of his bones pressing against the skin. Good god but Nicolas was way too thin. Wallace had never seen anyone so underweight before. How did he even walk around like that? The baggy clothes usually covered him enough to make it look like he was just skinny due to his youth, but with his shirt off like this it was blatantly obvious he was starving.

It made him feel guilty. How many times had Wallace eaten in front of Nic since the Twilight had become his body guard? He had never once suspected the boy wasn't being fed and Nic never even blinked when the food was in front of him. As if he had been conditioned not to ask for food or to act like he was hungry. Wallace wouldn't be surprised to find out that that was true.

"Don' cwy, Waw'ick." Nicolas' voice was softer than usual, a little less rough from disuse since Wallace had first got him to start talking out loud. His words were still a bit garbled and hard to understand, but Wallace actually found it endearing. When he had first met Nicolas, the boy had only been able to grate out enough words to indicate he could not hear and that he could not read and a few other very basic words. It was painfully obvious no one had ever even attempted to teach him how to communicate at all. But, when Wallace had started teaching him how to read and write, coaching him on speaking out loud, and then learning Sign Language together, Nicolas had soaked all that information up like a sponge. The kid was very smart and eager to learn. He had just needed someone to take the time to teach him, that was all. Now his speech was getting better each passing week. He just needed to keep practicing talking out loud.

"I got something in my eye, that's all, Nic. I'm not crying," Wallace forced a wry smile on his face, glad that at least Nic still liked him enough to not want him to cry.

By the time Wallace had dried the tears and the nausea had settled it was well past the time for the household to be safely asleep. Once Nicolas understood not to leave his bedroom, Wallace quietly crept down to the kitchen for a quick raid. He couldn't take anything the staff would miss, but as thin as Nicolas was he figured the boy wouldn't be picky. He just needed to make sure not to give him too much at one time just yet so that the boy wouldn't get sick from it. After a quick glance through the pantry and refrigerator, Wallace put together a sandwich with roast beef and a little cheese along with a handful of crackers. It wasn't much but it was all he would be able to sneak away without getting caught.

When he held the food out for Nicolas, the Twilight just stared at him with an almost dumbfounded expression. It made Wallace's heart ache in his chest when he had to actually explain that the food was for Nic to eat. He had actually been expecting the other boy to just grab the food and tear into it, but instead Nic almost seemed afraid of it. It was like Nic couldn't fathom getting a full meal instead of just being given scraps leftover from someone else's dinner. But, Wallace could see the hungry look in Nic's eye and the way the starved boy licked his chapped lips and fixated on the food being held out to him wasn't lost on the blond either.

Nicolas reached out a shaking hand toward the food but hesitated and glanced up at Wallace before signing, ' _Trick?'_

Wallace chewed on his lower lip as he shook his head, "No, Nic it's not a trick. I'm going to make sure you eat every day, I promise. You don't have to be hungry anymore."

Those large brown eyes moved from Wallace's lips to his hands as they formed the signs, absorbing the information with something that looked very much like a shudder. He hesitated a moment longer before reaching out to the take the food that was being offered. Nic tore into the food like a ravenous dog, barely taking the time to chew. It made Wallace wonder if he had picked up that habit out of the desperation of hunger or the fear of having what little that was given to him taken away before he could finish eating it. Perhaps it was a little of both?

There wasn't so much as a crumb left when Nic was done, the meal taking him less than a minute to completely devour. The dark haired boy sat on the floor staring at his hands for a moment as if expecting to find some leftover food on them to lick off. Once his hands fell down into his lap, Nicolas got that far away expression on his face again. Wallace wasn't sure what Nic was thinking about, the kid would make a great poker player with that stoic expression that was always on his face, but he had a feeling the thoughts weren't happy ones.

"Mm'sher," The sound was garbled when it left Nic's lips, as if the boy was trying to figure out a word he had never used before. Wallace had seen him do it before, picking up a word that he had seen on someone's lips that he couldn't recognize. Nic would get this frown on his face and try to replicate the lip movements enough to be able to clue Wallace in on what word he was trying to figure out.

"What?" Wallace asked, sitting cross legged across from his friend and smiling a bit when Nicolas looked up from the floor.

_'Word. I saw. What is it?'_ Nic signed slowly, still fumbling a bit with putting signs together to make complete thoughts when using Sign Language to speak.

"Try saying it again, I didn't catch," Wallace asked, smiling a bit in relief at this little bit of normalcy. They had done this every day since Wallace had first discovered Nicolas was deaf and could barely speak. It was just another reassurance that Nicolas wasn't holding anything against him.

"Muh'shter."

"Masher?" Wallace tried, but frowned when Nic shook his head. This was almost like a game of Pictionary. Nic would try to replicate a word he had seen and Wallace would guess at words that sounded like it until Nicolas recognize the movements of his lips as the right word he was looking for. Sometimes it was frustrating, especially for Nic, but Wallace always tried to find the fun in it by thinking of it as a game. It helped keep a smile on his face and that always helped Nicolas not feel so self-conscious.

"Master?" Nicolas shook his head again and Wallace thought for a moment before trying, "Monster?"

_'That one. What is?'_

Wallace frowned, uncertain where exactly Nicolas would have picked up a word like that being said. The expression on Nic's face wasn't the usual curiosity that came with learning a new word, especially one he had discovered himself and needed Wallace to clarify what it meant and how exactly to say it properly. He seemed apprehensive, as if he wasn't sure if he really wanted to understand this new word.

"Monster... That's a hard one to explain. It's something that's not human. I guess it is scary or evil. It does bad things and people are usually scared of them. Usually you see monsters as the bad guy in stories for kids," Wallace tried to sign as much as he could while speaking, but he was certain that he was messing up on some word placements.

_'How spell?'_ Nicolas asked, his hands unusually harsh as they signed, chopping through the motions rather than the usual gliding movements.

_'M-o-n-s-t-e-r and the sign for it is this,'_ Wallace held up both hands like claws. The sign for monster was an easy one, it actually went right along with what Wallace would have thought to do with his hands to go along with the word long before he had ever read the volume on Sign Language. Nicolas didn't mirror this new sign like he usually would have when Wallace taught him one. Instead, his shoulders slumped slightly as he began to wring his hands together. Wallace wasn't sure if he should ask, but he did anyway, "Where did you see that word?"

_'Father call me.'_

Biting down on his lower lip, Wallace tried not to fall back into the self-loathing he had just overcome less than half an hour ago. He reached out and ruffled Nicolas' hair, putting on his best smile for the other boy. He knew exactly how it felt to be called something utterly demeaning by his own father. Even if he knew it wasn't true, it always hurt worse than anything the maids might call him when they thought he wasn't within earshot. It was more personal and it cut deep.

"You are not a monster, Nicolas. You're just different. Some people can't tell the difference, but that's their loss. My dad is the same way. He calls me names too. It hurts when he does, but that doesn't mean everything he says is true. I think it's the same for you. Do you understand?" Wallace asked, holding Nic's cheeks between both of his palms to make sure the other was watching his lips.

Wallace knew that Nic wouldn't be able to catch everything he said, but he made sure to speak slowly and add facial expressions as much as possible. That always helped Nic when it came to lip reading. Just that little bit of added context often made the difference between Nic being able to understand or not understand what was being said. The relief Wallace saw in those brown eyes and the tiny bit of a smile that tugged at his friend's lips told him that his words had been understood. Wallace smiled lightly and pulled the smaller boy in for a hug, not at all surprised to find that Nicolas was awkward and stiff with the gesture. It seemed neither of them had much practice with affection, but that was okay. Wallace just wanted to feel his friend's body against his own, the warmth there was comforting in its own right. Nic was too thin and bony, but after a moment his own small arms reached around and lightly hugged Wallace back.


	9. A Quiet Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reviewer from the fanfiction site requested more Nico and Alex. So I give you this :)
> 
> Light spoilers regarding Nico's past and Clebrer.
> 
> I'm not sure if anything I wrote could count as spoilers involving Daniel Monroe, but just in case I'll go ahead and warn that there are spoilers about the Monroe Family.

 

Nicolas hated jobs like this one. There wasn't anything particularly challenging about killing small time gangsters, especially when they weren't dirty enough to give him a reason to go into the fight pissed off. The worst part about this job was that Daniel Monroe and his right hand man, Miles, had grossly exaggerated the difficulty of this job. He had gone into the warehouse expecting to find a small fortress and enough firepower to justify Monroe hiring him instead of sending in a group of his own men. But instead, he had just found a rundown warehouse with about ten men whose firepower consisted of some very sophisticated guns. Not that those sophisticated guns did them any good, what with being inside crates that were nailed shut.

It wasn't the first time Daniel Monroe had pulled a stunt like this on him. With the way Monroe had talked about this gang, Nic had expected a good firefight and had self-medicated with uppers before barging into the warehouse. An overdose wasn't exactly a long lasting thing with Celebrer uppers, but it certainly was lasting a lot longer than the fight had. Now he was high with nothing else to take out that focused anger on. It was not a good feeling, he needed to get the pay from Monroe and go home. He wasn't really sure how many uppers he had even taken. He had just popped the cap off the bottle and shook the pills right into his mouth before chewing them up and swallowing that chalky tasting shit down.

When he walked out of the warehouse he wasn't even surprised to find Monroe and a group of his men waiting for him. Everyone else felt like they were moving in slow motion, their lips almost too slow for him to read. He just couldn't focus on their mouths when every little movement caught his attention, made his muscles twitch and tense up. He forced himself to watch Daniel Monroe's lips, tuning in on the conversation half way through.

"-understand... give the money... Worick. Doesn't look... paying...lone tag." Monroe's lips were quirked up into a friendly smirk, but his eyes were narrowed just slightly.

Nicolas wasn't stupid, even hyped on uppers as he was now he knew exactly what Daniel Monroe was doing. He was pushing his buttons, trying to get a reaction for the low blow of an insult he had just made. This wasn't the first time he had refused to pay Nicolas when he was doing a job by himself. He would just say that he would pay Worick instead, claiming it wouldn't look good if he paid a Twilight money directly when the contract holder wasn't present. It was bullshit, but it wasn't unusual. But, it really grated on Nicolas' nerves when he was high, all that focused aggression honing in on the insult.

Instead of replying, Nic just grit his teeth and nodded with what he hoped looked like some sort of respect. Daniel Monroe was a snake in the grass, but he and Worick were in his debt big time. The man could refuse to pay them at all and they would likely go along with it for that sake alone. The pay was more for the sake of insuring Worick and Nicolas didn't pay off their debt too soon. Monroe preferred having favors in his pockets after all. Not to mention having Worick and Nicolas on his payroll looked good for him. Most high ranking Twilights belonged to the guild and could only be purchased on a per job basis and even then it had to be approved by Gina. To actually have an A/0 that was independent of the guild was almost unheard of. Add Worick's photographic memory to the mix and he not only had enough firepower to win most fights he picked, but he had the dirt to take down anyone he didn't feel were worth getting his hands dirty.

Nicolas walked through the alleys quickly, just wanting to get home before anything else happened. He needed to take a downer. The damn things made him sick as a dog and knocked him out for an hour straight, but even though he hated how they made him feel he knew they were necessary. Right now, the uppers he had taken had him feeling like he was moving fast while everything else moved slow and his sense of touch and pain was completely nonexistent. It was actually messing with his spatial awareness, which was something Theo had warned him of when overdosing. Apparently, there was regular overdosing and then there was kill yourself overdosing. Either way, he had overdone it this time. This wasn't the sort of euphoric feeling he liked about overdosing on Celebrer, he felt like he was floating half way out of his body as he forced it to keep walking.

He barely even remembered getting back to the office, but it felt as if he had blinked and suddenly been there. With shaking hands he opened the door and stumbled up the steps, walking through the door and heading straight for the drawer where he knew there was an auto injector for downer stashed. Nic felt like his heart was going to hammer right through his chest and he was sweating for no reason. Everything felt numb and it actually took a few tries to make his fingers move enough to grip the handle of the drawer and open it.

They always kept a couple of auto injectors on hand for situations just like this. The things were expensive, but they could be real life savers and they hit faster than a chewed up pill ever could. He managed to pick up one of the injectors, but it was the upper and the best he could do was just drop the damn thing while he tried to get his fingers to grip the downer enough to pick it up. He couldn't feel his hands at all and they weren't moving the way he wanted them too either. If he had been like this during a fight it would have gotten him killed.

A small, well-tanned hand reached into his vision and gripped his wrist. Turning, he saw Alex standing there with a worried expression. Could she feel him shaking right now? He glanced back down where her slender fingers were wrapped around his wrist, but he couldn't feel the texture of her skin or the warmth of her touch right now. He couldn't even sense the weight or pressure of her grip at this point. Her lips were moving, but he just wasn't sure what she was saying. She was moving too slow and there was a bug flying around the room that kept catching his eye and drawing his focus.

The movement of her hands caught his attention and he was able to focus on her signing better,  _'What wrong? You don't look good.'_

Nic glanced down at his hands and noticed he had dropped the auto-injector back down into the drawer. His fingers were shaking, actually his whole body was now that he thought about it. Swallowing, he reached for the injector again fumbled with trying to pick it up before those small hands reached down and picked it up for him. Alex flipped it over to read the finely printed instructions on the back before glancing up at him and motioning toward it, ' _You need?'_

He must have nodded yes at some point because Alex made a flustered expression on her face before pulling him toward the couch. At this point, he didn't have the presence of mind to do much more than follow her lead and unceremoniously fall onto the sofa. Time seemed to completely leave him at this point. One second he was fumbling around trying to sit up straight and the next Alex is pulling his shaking arms through his shirt sleeves. She held his arm and brought the uncapped injector up to his bicep before pushing the needle through the skin.

The drug burned as it was injected.

Alex pulled the injector of downer from his arm and popped the cap back on before tossing it onto the coffee table. Nicolas wrung his hands together, waiting the drug to take effect. He hated taking downers, they made him feel sick before knocking him out. The auto-injectors were actually a little better. They were a higher dose and tended to knock him out before any nausea could really set in. The down side was that it would knock him out for several hours instead of just one like his regular dose of downers would. The downer began to kick in and suddenly his sense of touch was coming back. He could actually feel his muscles twitching and his hands shaking now as the feeling of knife edge aggression also bled out of him. Now that he could actually feel again, he realized that if he had gone much longer without the downer he probably would have gone into convulsions. Worick would be pissed when he found out...

The shaking only got worse as the feeling of drowsiness began to settle in. Alex must have noticed because he could feel her soft hands rubbing his back as he hunched forward and leaned his elbows on his knees. Her touch was light, only rubbing where his undershirt covered and never touching the exposed skin of his shoulders. It was hard to focus on it as he felt his head start to nod. With a groan that made his throat rattle, Nic leaned back against the sofa and turned to glance at Alex. Her blue eyes looked worried, but he couldn't make his hands move to sign anything that might make her feel better. Just keeping his eyes open was a fight in and of itself at the moment.

Nicolas opened his eyes and instantly knew he had fallen asleep. There was a feeling of grogginess and a slightly soured stomach that always followed the higher dosing of an auto-injector of downer. It still wasn't as bad as the usual dose. His daily dose was just enough to make him nauseous then dead to the world for about an hour. Auto Injectors were more highly concentrated and would knock him out instantly for several hours. At least this way he didn't have to worry about throwing up. But, waking up was a lot harder than it should be. His vision didn't want to focus and his thoughts were all jumbled.

Something soft and cool wiped at the sweat beading on his forehead and he blinked the last of the fog from his eyes. Glancing up, Nic realized Alex was sitting there wiping his forehead with a damp cloth. She gave him a tight smile as he felt her fingers running through his hair. Rolling onto his side, Nicolas realized his head had been propped up in her lap. How long had she been sitting here with him? Surely not the entire time? Even Worick would have left him alone to sleep off the tranquilizing effect for a few hours.

Blinking, he brought a hand up to rub the sleep from his eyes before he realized his cheek was pressed against the warm skin of her bare thighs. Glancing down he was met with soft brown skin and found himself wondering why she insisted on wearing such showy clothing. She didn't really dress any different now than she had when she was actively working as a prostitute. Worick made his appreciation of the show she gave known quite often, but Nic just didn't understand it. Wouldn't it be better to leave a little more to the imagination? Not that he really minded right now... It did feel nice to feel her skin against his cheek, especially after losing his sense of touch while overdosed. It grounded him, reassured him that it was just the overdose that made him lose his sense of feeling and it wasn't a sign that he was dying just yet.

He let his eyes drift closed again as he felt her fingers lightly trace little circles up and down his bare arm. It almost tickled, but it was an oddly comforting thing. In the back of his mind, he knew he should get up and away from her before Worick returned home. This sort of seen would just send the other man into a panic, since Nic usually hated being touched and disliked being this close to a person even more. He wasn't even sure why he felt so comforted by it either, but he blamed it on the Celebrer downer still messing up his system. He still felt groggy and like his limbs had heavy weights on them.

When he woke up again, he felt much better. The downer had been mostly processed in his system and it didn't take so long to wake up. It was more what had woken him up that confused him. He could feel something warm pressed against the back of his head and it felt like it was vibrating slightly. Glancing down, he realized his head was still cradled in Alex's lap. Actually, he was a bit surprised she hadn't wriggled her way out from under him yet. It had to have been at least three hours since she had given him the injection. Turning over he looked up at her and frowned a bit. Her mouth was closed but her stomach was vibrating as if she were talking, though it stopped once she looked down at him.

 _'Were you talking just now?'_ He signed, watching as her own dark eyebrows creased slightly in confusion.

"No... Why?" She replied, her lips easy to read from such a close proximity and how she was looking directly down at him.

 _'It felt like you were.'_ He signed back at her, watching as an embarrassed smile replaced her earlier confusion.

"I was-" Nicolas frowned when he couldn't read the word she used to describe what she had been doing. It didn't look like any word he recognized. Alex must have picked up on his confusion since she quietly smiled apologetically before repeating herself. The second time didn't help either, he wasn't sure what she was saying.

 _'Sign it.'_ He replied, frustrated that he couldn't figure out what he was saying. Usually he could read her lips just fine, but in this case he couldn't picture the word in his head.

"Ah... I don't know the sign for it," She nervously twirled a strand of a hair until he signed for her to finger spell it instead. He at least knew she was familiar with the alphabet, she often had to resort to finger spelling words she didn't know the signs for after all.

 _'H-u-m-m-i-n-g,'_  She went through the letter signs with more precision than he had expected, she had definitely been practicing more when he wasn't looking. Still, he drew a blank in his mind with the word. It was probably a word about sound, Worick had avoided those types of words when they were younger and he was coaching Nic on speaking out loud. He knew basic ones regarding volume and tones of voice, but every now and then he would come across a word he couldn't remember ever learning.

 _'Do it again,'_ He signed, but waved off her hands when she tried to spell out the word again.

Once he pointed back at her, she seemed to understand and she sat up a little straighter and looked off toward the window. He could feel the telltale vibration against his cheek that was closest to her that told him she was making sound. Her head moved slightly, but her lips never opened as if she were talking or even singing. It was strange, but still he wondered if the sound came from her mouth or perhaps her chest when she did this? Reaching up, he pressed the back of his fingers against the side of her throat and was almost surprised that it was still vibrating as if she were talking.

The action caught her off guard and she stopped and stared down at him, surprise on her face. Letting his hand fall away from her, Nic sighed as he sat up and stretched. He could feel her watching him and the faint blush on her cheeks wasn't lost on him either, but he pretended not to notice. Humming was a new word to add to his vocabulary, but he still didn't quite understand it. It was obvious that it was a way of making sound, but it wasn't talking or singing. Her mouth didn't open and move to form words. Maybe it was more like whistling? Worick did that sometimes, but he still had to move his lips just right to do it. The blond had described it as sound that had more to do with tune than words, it was a way of making music.

In all honesty, he was still curious about it but he didn't really want to keep asking Alex questions about it. She had already seen him in a bad way today, exposing all sorts of weakness that he had never wanted her or anyone else to see. Asking her explain a type of sound to him would only make him appear even more useless in her eyes. She was kind and had always been patient with him, but he didn't like the expressions he saw on people's faces when he needed someone to explain something to him that he just couldn't understand because he was deaf. Worick had become accustomed to explaining things to him over the years, or even just telling him flat out that he wouldn't be able to understand something because he couldn't hear it. But, other people weren't so forgiving.

A light touch on his arm brought him back out of the brooding thoughts to look at Alex as she asked, "Are you feeling better?"

Her signing really was getting better. She wasn't fast and she was a bit sloppy, but she could now sign while she spoke without staring down at her hands. It was still a mystery to him why she had even bothered to learn it. It only made her stay with the handymen seem more permanent. Nicolas was completely in agreement with Worick that Alex needed to get out of Ergastulum entirely as soon as she had the chance. The longer she stayed, the closer she got to them, the harder it would be for her to escape this city.

 _'Thank you.'_ He signed simply before rubbing the back of his neck. He wasn't in the habit of needing to thank people very often, but he wasn't naive enough to not realize he could have been in trouble if she hadn't helped him with the injection.

"It's fine... I remembered my mom letting me lay in her lap when I wasn't feeling well... I'm glad you feel better," She smiled warmly at him, finger spelling a few of the words but otherwise signing perfectly.

Nicolas just frowned, there was yet another topic he and Worick never spoke to each other about. It was something they both had in common. Both of them had been separated from their mothers when they were very young and neither liked to talk about it. He didn't have many memories of his own mother, but Nic could remember being very small and her holding him close. He wasn't sure if he had ever laid his head in her lap, they were only ever allowed to sit or lay down if his father's mercenaries didn't have something for them to do and they always had to be on guard. Still, the way Alex talked about her, the expression on her face, gave him the impression that the woman wasn't alive anymore.

 _'Is she dead?'_ He knew it was a blunt question, but the subject had him on edge and yet he wanted to know.

"She died when I was still a kid," She chewed on her lip and looked down at her own lap, her hands falling limply to her sides when she had finished signing.

He could relate to that, though he doubted the circumstances were the same. The raw emotions of something like that never went away no matter how old he got. He still woke up with nightmares about the day his mother had died. He sighed and waited until she looked back up at him to sign,  _'Mine did too, when I was very small.'_

She didn't ask him how it happened, likely because he had extended the same courtesy to her. There were just some questions best left unasked. Nicolas had learned that lesson a long time ago. When Worick had finally broke through the silence of his world and made him understand the concept of language, Nic had been curious about everything. It had been sign language that had done the trick. Worick had been making hand motions at him for days, obviously trying to get him to understand something about them. At first, Nic had felt frustrated at not understanding, just as he did about wanting to understand the mouth movements everyone else made and seemed to understand each other using. Even though he had learned how to say a few words at that point, he had just been parroting and hadn't understood what it meant outside of the action getting him the responses he desired.

He could still remember vividly the moment it had finally clicked in his mind. Before that moment, he had had no language. Looking back, Nic couldn't even remember how his own thoughts had worked, but it had changed almost instantly. Suddenly, he had realized that there were signs for everything. He had gone around pointing at objects for Worick to show him the sign for them. Suddenly, just like that, he had a language and he could communicate. It had taken a couple of years before he had become fluent, but he had been able to communicate for the first time even if it had been on a basic level. He had been curious about everything, even more so once he had realized the things Worick had been making him copy pictures of in the notebook had actually been letters that could also make up words that matched up with the hand signs things as well. For the first time in his life, Nicolas had understood and been able to make someone else understand him.

But, curiosity killed the cat eventually. Finally, he had wanted to know something he should have left alone about Worick. It hadn't been the first time the other boy had been mad or annoyed with him back then, but it had been the first time Worick had been able to make him understand why he was upset. He had been curious about Worick's family and once the other had been able to make him understand why he shouldn't have asked, Nicolas had filed that little lesson away for future reference. No matter how curious he was about the answer, Nic didn't ask people about relationships or other emotionally complicated matters.

 _'Don't tell W-o-r-i-c-k about this,'_ He signed, changing the subject as he stood up and looked around for the shirt he had been wearing earlier.

She waited until he glanced over his shoulder at her before she asked, "Why not? I thought you would need to go to the doctor now that you're awake."

He just shook his head at her,  _'It would make him worry. Stuff like that happens to me sometimes, that's why we have the auto-injectors. I'm fine now. It isn't unusual.'_

Nicolas wasn't sure if it was the fact that he felt this sort of thing was normal or that he was obviously trying to hide it from Worick that made her frown and fiddle with the hem of her skirt. It was obvious that Alex wasn't exactly comfortable with keeping secrets. He wasn't sure exactly how much she understood about Twilights and Celebrer, but she always shied away from it when it was mentioned. Perhaps it was her own past with the TB pills and now the medication to help with the anxiety and hallucinations that Theo had prescribed that turned her off to drugs in general.

Honestly, he couldn't blame her. He had seen how badly her hands were shaking as panic set in at Constance's shop. Even when he had gripped her small hands in his own and opened the pill bottle for her, he had felt the violent shaking going through her whole body. Pain like that was private. He hated whenever someone saw him like that, even if it was just Worick, so he had simply left as soon as the child proof cap was removed from the bottle. But, she had stayed with him throughout this whole ordeal. He had expected her to leave, but she hadn't. He wasn't even sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, it had been very comforting to have her there and then on the other hand he not wanted her to see him when he was messed up like that.

He turned back towards her and watched her for a moment as she looked shyly back at him. Just a few months ago she would have withered under his gaze, but now she seemed almost comfortable around him. The small smile he gave her felt foreign on his lips, but he knew it would cheer her up if he smiled at her. The surprised expression she gave him was quickly followed with a blush and a pleased look on her face. It just made him think that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be such a bad thing if she stuck around for a little longer.


	10. First Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, this one is young Nic and Worick. It takes place between their first meeting and before Worick started teaching Nicolas Sign Language.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:  
> In my own mind, I imagine Nic's first thoughts toward reading/writing probably being similar to my own when I was introduced to it as a child. I was diagnosed with severe audio and visual Dyslexia when I was half way through 2nd grade. I was actually able to get by 'faking' my reading and writing until that point before I had to be put into a special education class for learning to read since the average teaching method was completely ineffective for me. My mom even tried using the 'hooked on phonics' thing to help whenever I got home from school, it just didn't compute.
> 
> The best way I can explain it is, my mind just couldn't fathom the concept of letters, much less putting them together to form a word. When I looked at them, I just saw pictures of symbols. I could memorize what the word 'cat' meant. But, memorizing and understanding are two very different things. Basically imagine how it would affect you if whenever you looked at letters, you couldn't recognize them as letters and your brain registered them as pictures or random scribbles on paper. To me the letters making up the word were just a picture and I could remember that picture was a 'symbol' for cat. So if a teacher called on me to read a word up on the board, I usually would be able to remember that the 'picture' meant some sort of animal or other easy word. But, once it turned into sentences my jig was up and suddenly the teacher's and my parents realized I couldn't read or truly recognize different letters (I couldn't match letters up with the right sounds they made).
> 
> Obviously now, I've learned the way for me to be able to read and write which involves understanding and not memorizing. But, if I read out loud I have a very bad stutter(it only happens when reading out loud) and I tend to repeat words and sentences 2-3 times before I realize I've already read it. Then when writing I typically duplicate sentences or jump to a new sentence half way through the current one. And I'm sure some of you have seen where I have switched out a word with another one that is of a similar length or sounds/looks similar at a glance. I think I've gone back and corrected most of them now though. I know a lot of people picture Dyslexia as just one thing where people switch around letters/numbers or switch a term with something completely opposite. While that is a type of Dyslexia, there are other types of it that affect people differently.
> 
> Anyway, in my mind I imagine young Nic (who was raised without language pretty much) not being able to understand what the letters and words Worick is trying to teach him to read/write really are. Not because he is Dyslexic, but because he wouldn't have a language to compare it too. It would be like trying to teach someone the Russian Cyrillic alphabet with the person having no prior exposure/knowledge of the Russian language whatsoever. It just wouldn't compute. But, I imagine they probably could memorize certain combinations of letters to mean certain words. It wouldn't be exactly the same, but in my head it makes sense.
> 
> Anyway, sorry for the lengthy explanation. But, I felt more comfortable putting it in as an author's note than trying to force feed it to the reader's in the story somehow.
> 
> Also fun fact(sorry I just thought of this after talking about my difficulty in school with reading/writing and it struck me as ironic) I pretty much failed every single English class I ever took throughout Middle and High School. Only reason I have a diploma is because the teachers took pity and helped me with extra credit in English so I could pass with the bare minimum grade. I did well in my other classes. My parents weren't made aware at the time that with a doctor's diagnosis of Dyslexia I qualified for help with testing (I would have been able to take my English tests orally with a teacher reading the questions and my answering them vocally), so yeah I did not do well in school. One English teacher in high school actually told me, "Being a writer just isn't ever going to be possible for you." Well, kiss my writing butt old English Teacher :P I can do whatever I put my mind too! I might have to work a little harder, but that doesn't mean it isn't possible for me to do.

Wallace sighed in quiet frustration for the fifth time in half an hour. When he had decided to teach his new body guard how to read and write, he hadn't completely understood just how difficult that would be. When Nicolas had spoken to him, he had assumed that the other boy had a decent grasp on the English language. Now that he had been trying to make the other boy understand that the two words Wallace had been having him copy down on the paper was actually Nicolas' own first and last name, he started to realize that perhaps Nicolas had been parroting his speech more than talking.

Nicolas seemed to only have a few basic phrases he could say, as if someone had coached him into them without his actually understanding what they meant. Sadly, most of them started off with the two words 'I can't' or were responses of obedience or apology. At times, Nicolas would spout out one of these phrases, but it wouldn't make any sense as a response to what Wallace was trying to get him to understand. The one most frustrated by this was Nicolas himself, as if he wasn't sure why he wasn't getting the desired response for what he was saying.

Wallace would try to make him understand that he wanted Nicolas to sit in a chair and not on the floor. Nicolas would respond with 'sorry' or nodding his head, but instead of then complying he would shuffle off to the corner of the room as if he thought he had been told to get out of the way. The other two popular phrases were, 'I can't read' and 'I can't hear'. But, the more Wallace paid attention the less he thought Nicolas actually understood what he was saying. It gave him the impression that the mercenaries had somehow taught Nicolas how to say these phrases in order to keep Nicolas from accidentally angering a client. All the phrases were used as excuses almost, then Nic would do whatever he thought Wallace was trying to get him to. Of course, that was just if Nicolas spoke at all. Usually, the boy would just nod, shake his head, or look confused instead of attempting to speak out loud.

The one phrase Nicolas did seem to be able to put with the correct question was in response to if Wallace pointed out a bruise or other injury. Nic would just say he had fallen down. Of course, if Wallace asked where he had fallen or how, Nic would have no idea how to respond and would just repeat himself. At the very least, Nic seemed to understand that saying he had fallen down was the proper response to anyone pointing at visible injuries on him. He also seemed to understand when Wallace would say the same thing back when Nic pointed at Wallace's own bruises. Somehow it felt pathetic that their shared understanding of abuse and making up the same excuse for the evidence of it was the easiest point of their communication.

The next step Wallace tried to use in making Nicolas understand the words he was writing down had no more effect than simply having him copy down the ABC's had. Wallace tried drawing a picture then writing the word for what the drawing depicted to try and help Nic make the connection. But, all he saw on the other boy's face was either blank lack of understanding or outright confusion. Nothing Wallace did seemed to get through. There was no communication between them, at least not really. It often took a lot of patience and some creative gesturing for Wallace to get Nicolas to do something. Sometimes, Wallace would just forget and start talking, only to have Nicolas shake his head with a nervous expression and once again tell Wallace that he couldn't hear.

For a while, Wallace began to wander if Nicolas was perhaps a little slow. No matter what he did, Nic just couldn't grasp the concept of anything he was attempting to teach him. But, then Wallace would just remember that it was, in the end, a lack of language. After three weeks of this struggle, Wallace finally decided that Nic didn't seem to understand what language was at all. Whatever few phrases he knew how to say, were purely parroted and he had likely been taught how to do them in a less than kind manner. Whenever Wallace had to speak to someone, especially when interacting with his private tutor, Nicolas would stare at their lips with curiosity. The child mercenary seemed to understand that other people could communicate together whenever he saw people moving their lips, but likely had no clue as to how or even why.

It wasn't until Wallace found the book about Sign Language that he finally regained the lost hope he had at communicating with his new found friend. With his photographic memory, it only took reading the book once to memorize all the signs. The concept of word order and using the signs to form complete thoughts was a bit confusing for him, but Wallace figured the important thing would be getting Nicolas to understand the basic signs first. Making sentences with them could come later.

The first time Wallace had taken Nicolas outside and pointed at a tree before making the hand sign for it, Nicolas had just cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. It had really deflated the blond's excitement, but he kept at it. While he and Nic were together, Wallace would always make the signs for things they passed and point at them, hoping that eventually it would click for the dark haired boy. After a while, Nic started to copy him. It seemed to be more out of curiosity than understanding, but it was still progress.

It was nearly two full weeks after Wallace had found the Sign Language book that it finally clicked with Nicolas. Wallace had taken to trying to show Nicolas conversation styled Sign Language. Quite literally, the blond had spent the past few days 'talking' to himself in Sign Language. At first, Nic had been more amused than anything, chuckling at the antics he was watching. Those dark brown eyes were as alert as ever, but his lips would be pulled up into a smirk. Then it finally happened. As if a light bulb had just suddenly flickered on in a dark room and illuminated everything inside, revealing everything to the eye so that it could be understood.

Wallace had almost missed the movement. He had been signing to himself about the weather in question form, pausing, then answering it. It was the same thing he did every day. Usually Nicolas would copy him, but it would be exact. This time, instead of following along as Wallace did the signs, Nicolas jumped in during the pause and signed the answer that the weather was clear and sunny. Blue eyes had turned to meet brown ones and the look on Nicolas' face said it all. He understood.

The next moment was a whirlwind, as soon as understanding clicked in Nicolas' mind he began pointing at everything and waiting for Wallace to show him the correct sign. Then Nic would go back and start pointing at the objects in random order, making the signs himself. He certainly picked up quickly on what signs matched up with what objects he was pointing at. It was the first time Wallace had ever seen the boy smile. It was a big joyful grin and he was suddenly curious about everything, soaking up all the information like a sponge. Not that Wallace didn't have a big smile on his own face. He'd never really done anything worthwhile before, but this was something he felt proud of doing.

After a few hours of going about and pointing at things around the estate for Wallace to teach him the signs for, Nicolas finally seemed to wear himself out a bit. Or rather, he ran out of things to point at. Nic's lower lip pouted slightly as he turned himself in a circle, looking for anything he hadn't noticed before. There was an expression of disappointment on his face when he found nothing new and had already gone around pointing at objects and making the signs for them himself. Turning back to Wallace, he cocked his head to the side and those big brown eyes regarding the blond with quiet curiosity before he jabbed a finger at Wallace.

With a small smile, Wallace finger spelled his own name for Nicolas. It took a good ten minutes of coaching before Nicolas got it right, but then he pointed toward himself expectantly. Wallace actually had to think for a moment, recalling the correct signs for each letter of Nicolas' name. As he made the series of signs for Nic to see, Wallace couldn't help but keep smiling to himself at how excited Nicolas was. It was infectious to say the least and after nearly two months of knowing each other but being unable to communicate together, that language barrier had finally been broken.

Once Nicolas understood the concept of Sign Language, reading and writing followed shortly after. Then once he was able to do basic reading and writing, lip reading and speaking out loud came next. Nic wasn't just parroting mouth and tongue movements anymore, he actually understood what he was saying and was fairly good at reading lips to see what was being said to him as well. It was hard work, but rewarding for Wallace. Suddenly, he had the first friend he had ever had in his entire life. And that friend could understand and speak with him now.

It wasn't long before Nicolas was able to ask questions and he asked a lot of them. He was still quiet by nature, but his curiosity was no longer kept internal. There wasn't any impatience when he wanted to know something, though Nic certainly got excited about learning new things. He especially liked when Wallace taught him how to play a few card games, but now that conversation was possible things were different. Instead of just communicating want, need, and interest, Nicolas could sign out full thoughts and if he tried hard enough sometimes he could say them out loud or write them down. It wasn't perfect, but they could understand each other and that was major progress.

 _'W-a-l-l-a-c-e, other you. Who?'_ Nicolas had his head cocked to the side again, fumbling through the signs as if he knew he wasn't asking the question correctly but lacked the knowledge of the signs he needed to do so. It wasn't unusual, but it took effort to figure out what Nic wanted to know.

"Other me?" Wallace murmured, thinking hard before realized that Nic was probably asking about his brother Michel. With a sigh, Wallace made sure to sign and speak slowly as he answered, "You mean my brother? His name is Michel."

_'Brother? What is?'_

"Uh... It means we have the same parents. Well.. the same father. Do you understand?" Wallace explained, feeling a bit nervous about the direction of this particular question.

 _'Is friend?'_ Nicolas' brows were furrowed, likely because he hadn't meant the question to lead to any mention of parents. They had already had the serious conversation of appropriate and inappropriate questions after Nicolas had asked the touchy question regarding Wallace's mother and father.

"No, Nic... Michel isn't a friend. He doesn't like me," Wallace explained, smiling a bit when Nicolas just shrugged and waved his hand to dismiss the subject.

 _'W-a-l-l-a-c-e, friend with me?'_ Nic's question actually caught Wallace off guard.

The blond had accepted that the two of them were friends quite some time ago, but the fact had never been verbalized between them. They did everything together now and there certainly was a level of caring and worry for each other that came with the territory. Wallace hated knowing Nic went back to the shared quarters of the mercenaries every night, only to show up the next morning with fresh bruises covering him. It wasn't hard to answer the question, "Yeah, Nic. We're friends."

Those dark brown eyes of Nicolas' watched the movements of Wallace's hands with keen interest, only glancing at his lips once or twice. A small smile spread over Nic's face as a faint blush spread across his face, the pale tinge of pink reaching up to the tips of his ears. As if embarrassed, Nic just nodded and turned back around to keep walking forward, but Wallace couldn't help but chuckle a bit to himself. Even before he had finally broken through Nicolas' communication barrier, Wallace had thought he had had a good idea of Nic's personality. But, now that they could talk to each other, he realized that there was much more to the young mercenary than he had originally thought.

Nicolas was very intelligent, picking up on Sign Language along with reading and writing rather quickly. Speaking out loud was harder for him, but he was making a genuine effort to learn how to do so. He was curious about people and things around him, but had learned to be a bit shy for fear of angering anyone else that might find him irritating. Even though Wallace tried to forget, he couldn't get the image out of his mind of the corpse in the yard with Nicolas standing over it, blood dripping from the unsheathed sword in his hand. It was easy to forget that Nic had been a mercenary for most of his life, if not all of it, when they were playing cards or arm wrestling. It was easy to see him as fragile, needing to be shielded from the world, but then Wallace would be faced with the stark reminders that Nic probably knew more about the harsh realities of the world than Wallace himself did.


	11. Bang!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for sexual content, nothing explicit/graphic. Mainly just conversational, but I'm putting up the warning just in case.

Usually when the word 'bang' was used in any sort of reference to sex, it was either kinky or just generally a good thing. Maybe it was 'sex that ended with a bang', 'banging the bed against the wall', 'banging hips together', 'gang bang'... Perhaps the last one could be either positive or negative depending on the situation. There were also, of course, less savory uses for the word when in regards to sex. 'Accidentally banging foreheads', 'banging teeth together' and so on and so forth.

This was neither of those types of use for the word 'bang' in regards to Worick's prolific sex life.

Worick had done something today that he hadn't in a long time, he had taken on a new customer. She had been referred to him by a current client whom he had been seeing since he was in his teens, so he had done the long time client a solid and taken on her friend. He should have insisted on meeting in a hotel for a first time rendezvous, but it had been so long since he had taken on a new client that the old safety measure had totally slipped his mind. Her house had been fairly average and he had wondered how she could even afford him. But, she had paid up front in cash and that wad of hundreds had brought a twinkle to his eye.

Her name was Anne, or so she claimed, and she was unmarried, or so she claimed. Worick had just played the part of the captivated conversational partner while she talked, his perfect memory allowing him to parrot bits of information back at just the right moment to make her feel like he was just as fascinated by her as he was pretending to be. The woman had bought him for the next three hours after all, apparently one hour of that was just to listen to her shoot the breeze. It wasn't completely unusual, but it left him with the impression that she probably was actually married.

When their activities had finally turned to actual sex, she proved to be a kinky little thing. Most of the women he serviced had more dominate kinks. They were usually married to men who were used to throwing their weight around and always getting what they wanted, men who never let anyone else be in control. So they would pay Worick to let them call the shots for an hour or two. It was very rare to find a married woman who paid him to dominate her, usually even the most boring husband was capable of doing that free of charge.

She didn't want to be tied up, she just wanted it rough and mean, derogatory... degrading.. demeaning. It was a part of his job that Worick absolutely hated. He usually turned down clients like this woman. He had spent too much time being on the receiving end of degrading sex in the past and Worick hated being the one to deal it out, even when it was requested. Not because it made him feel dirty, he respected that everyone had their secret fetishes, but he hated it because it brought bad memories of his own past. He had become involved in prostitution at the tender age of fourteen after all. Most of the women who had purchased him back then had been sweet and tender, but a surprising amount of them were the stuff of nightmares. Men were worse... He had stopped taking on male clients as soon as he was making enough money to be able to turn down clients without pissing off Big Mama.

Worick didn't like the mindset of being the abuser, even when it was just an act. It stirred up bad memories of his father, of his first five years as a teenage prostitute... Worse still, it put him in the shoes of the people who had been hurting him in the past. He didn't like it. He didn't like it at all.

But, he had taken on this client and he needed the money. Handyman work had been a bit slow this month and the tab at Theo's clinic was getting up toward the five digit range and Nic probably needed more Celebrer soon. So Worick put on his big boy pants, or rather took them off, and decided to go along with this little bit of sex play. It wasn't like this woman wasn't beautiful and her body was amazing. She wasn't as curvy as Alex, but she was damned close.

"Do me a favor and make it end with a bang, mkay?" She was trying to talk in a sexy voice, but it just wasn't doing it for him.

It didn't matter. The client's sexual prowess didn't matter, only his did. She still had two hours on the clock and she wanted things a certain way. There was a wad of bills in the pocket of his discarded pants so if she wanted things to end with a bang, he'd figure something out by the time two hours was up. This was the worst kind of foreplay, it did nothing for Worick personally although he was glad this new client seemed to be getting off on it. Everytime her curves and moans got him going, he'd remember he was supposed to be saying something awful to her as she had requested and it was about as arousing to him as a knee to the balls.

It was toward the end of their little session that Worick finally pulled the condom on and pushed in, still trying to come up with something that qualified as 'end it with a bang'.

It ended with a bang alright.

The bang of the door to the bedroom being slung open and a furious husband wondering who the hell Worick was and why he was quite literally balls deep in his wife. Somehow, explaining that he was a paid prostitute just didn't seem like it would cut it. If there was something that could make Worick lose an erection faster than a knee to the groin it was a gun aimed at the back of his head.

It had been at least three years since Worick had bailed out of a second story window, longer since he had done so with a few bullets whizzing past his head as he scrambled down the fire escape. He'd had the grace to grab his clothes and the wad of bills, but until he was out of range he was just going to have to run naked toward the nearest alley. The gun fired off a few more bullets with loud bangs sending pigeons flying from their perches. Thankfully, the man wasn't a good shot and Worick made it into the maze of back alleys without even being grazed.

It wasn't until he had made a few twists and turns that he stopped to yank his clothes on and double check that he had his money in full. He didn't bother smoothing out any wrinkles and the button up shirt wasn't lined up right, but he was dressed and he was going home. He would have charged double if he had known there was a gun toting husband involved with the client... Actually, he would have insisted on a hotel at her expense. If she called again, he'd just turn her away now. It was shit like this that almost made him miss working in a brothel, at least there was a certain level of protection there.

Memories of angry husbands bypassing Big Mama's security proved his thoughts wrong and he fished around for his cigarettes. The damned things must have fallen out somewhere during the dash to safety and Worick wasn't back tracking just for a half empty pack. He still had a couple packs left in the last carton he had purchased so he would just endure the nicotine fit until he got home.

Home, as it turned out, wasn't empty like he had hoped. Alex had waved at him in passing on her way to the market for groceries, but had graciously not asked after his disheveled appearance. Leave it to a fellow whore to know when to not ask questions. God, but he loved that sweet woman. She was out of the business, but Alex still had a level of understanding for Worick that only someone else who had been a prostitute could have. Times like this, she would just sweep over his frame with her blue eyes to check for injuries then give him a worried smile and move along. Her eyes never lingered where they shouldn't, didn't make him feel like meat on display... There was nothing dirty about her gaze dragging over his form, it was purely out of worry for his well being.

Walking up the stairs and into the office, Worick wasn't surprised to find Nicolas leaning against the window with a book in his hand. Dark brown eyes flickered up at him and gave him a once over. Like Alex, Nic's gaze didn't leave him feeling dirty, but it wasn't kind like when Alex did it. There wasn't much that Nic could do that could be described as gentle. The man certainly tried to be when he felt the situation called for it, but he rarely succeeded at it. The intent was the same, both Nic and Alex just wanted to make sure he wasn't hurt, but, unlike Alex, Nicolas' brown eyes made him feel way too exposed.

 _'You look like shit,'_ Nic signed, tossing his book onto the desk and smirking a bit toward his friend.

"Imagine the worst sex of your life, ending in the most awkward way possible. Add pissed off husband and gunfire to the mix. That was my day," Worick signed as he spoke, already heading for the desk drawer to retrieve a much needed cigarette. Once he found a carton, he pulled a box out and opened it to find fresh cigarettes inside, "Hot damn I need a smoke."

Nicolas slapped a hand against the desk to get Worick's attention before signing,  _'There's shit in your hair.'_

Worick reflexively ran his fingers through the wild blond locks, groaning out loud when he came into contact with damp rubber. He yanked the condom out of his hair and tossed it in the trash, at least he hadn't finished... Nothing on it but lube and sweat. Still he didn't miss Nicolas signing,  _'That's disgusting'._

"Oh like you've never had to pull out and run like hell before! I had to make it out from between this lady's legs to one side of the room for my cash and clothes then across the room, out the window, down the fire escape, and run like a bat out of hell for the alley. And I did it all with some asshole shooting at me! You ever go down a fire escape butt ass naked, Nic?" Try as he did, Worick couldn't help but smirk as he watched Nicolas' face flush slightly and he rubbed the back of his neck.

 _'No... Never had a condom in my hair either,'_ Was the sheepish reply the dark haired man gave, not liking the subject matter of their conversation.

"Well, sounds like your sex life is a bit boring. Better spice it up. I have a few friends I could introduce you too," Worick's grin was devilish, loving that he had turned the conversation from an embarrassing subject for himself into one that was making Nic turn a bit red at the ears.

 _'Pass. All of your friends are either tranies or whores,"_ Nic signed back, grunting a bit as he frowned at the blond.

"Hey, what's wrong with tranies? They're just as pretty as women, but not so fragile. I've never been with one I didn't enjoy personally. Don't knock it til you try it. Besides, you've met a few of the ones I'm friends with. You get along with them just fine," Worick replied, pressing all the right buttons in a more subtle way.

 _'Getting along with someone and wanting to have sex with them aren't the same thing. Why the hell are we talking about this?'_ Nic was beet red at this point, looking everywhere but at Worick's smirking face.

"Because you get so damn grumpy sometimes. I can't help but think it'd be a goddamn public service to get you laid, Nic. You've gotten too damn picky lately. Or maybe you're just shy? What's the matter, don't got no game?" Worick's voice was as smooth as silk, his expression matching his tone perfectly and he knew he had hit the nail on the head when Nicolas cleared his throat roughly and had a hard time thinking up a come back. Usually he was the one with the sharp wit, but this was a subject Nic just wasn't good at.

 _'I have someone,'_ Nic's face made Worick wince as he corrected himself, ' _Had someone.'_

"Ah hell, Nic. You know I wasn't trying to get at that... I just like to give you shit sometimes, you know?" That really hadn't been the direction Worick had meant to take the conversation at all. Before Veronica had gotten sick, the two of them had given each other hell like this all of the time. It had been a year since he had dared to even start teasing Nic a little bit about such things, but each time Nicolas had just gone along with it. This was the first time he'd actually taken it the wrong way.

 _'I know. I went to see her while you and A-l-e-x were making the delivery,'_ Nicolas' hands moved as gracefully as ever, not hitching as if he were upset. He was just speaking very matter of fact, but Worick knew it wasn't a pleasant subject. Usually, Nic wouldn't talk about Veronica at all. It was rare he brought her up on his own or elaborated beyond a single sentence.

"How was she? I asked Big Mama, but I didn't want to believe it."

_'She recognized me this time. It was... nice.'_

Worick didn't dare say it, but he knew that for Nicolas that that wasn't a good thing. When Veronica had first stopped recognizing who was visiting her, it had been very difficult for Nic to handle. But, he had eventually come to terms with it and worked through it, no longer being upset when she didn't know who he was. But, having her suddenly recognize him for the first time in months would just drag him right back to where he had been before. It was like yanking off a scab before the wound was healed. All it did was reveal the raw flesh again and the process would have to start over, prolonging the suffering. It wasn't that Nic didn't understand he had to move on, that he needed to let her go. He needed to move on, maybe find someone new.

"I understand... I won't bring it up again... Look, I'm gonna shower. I know I stink and I feel nasty," Worick answered, not missing the look of utter relief that crossed Nic's face at the much needed subject change.

The shower was an answer to the prayers Worick never made. It washed away all the stink of shameful sex and the sweat of running for his life. He took his time, letting the water run cold before he finally got out. There was a lot about being a male prostitute that Worick hated, a lot more than he liked about it at least. He was paid to lie to people, to pretend he loved them and enjoyed their bodies. He had been with all different types of people, some he genuinely likes and others he didn't. At the end of the day, people were people regardless of gender or dress. It was what was on the inside that counted. Sadly, most people were ugly on the inside. Or perhaps that was just the sort that paid for sex in general. Thoughts like that just reminded Worick that he wasn't so shiny clean on the inside either. He'd grown twisted over the years and sometimes it showed.

Toweling his hair dry, Worick pulled on a clean pair of pants and didn't bother with a shirt. Coming back out into the office, he found Nic had returned to reading his book and Alex still hadn't returned. Dark brown eyes flickered over toward Worick before returning their attention back to the pages. It still brought a smile to Worick's face to walk in and see Nicolas just enjoying a good book. He'd never quite grown out of the excitement that had come with learning to read. Most kids went a little crazy with reading at first, wanting to show off that they could do it. But, Nic had been a book worm from the moment he became proficient at reading. It was his hobby and he went through books like Worick went through condoms. Nic was in good with the old lady that ran the bookstore, one of the few that allowed Twilights to enter. She was crabbier than Granny Joel, wouldn't let a 'sex crazed kid' like Worick set foot inside the shop. But, she fawned over Nicolas like he was god's gift to book store owners everywhere. Actually, Nic probably was... The amount of books he bought could pay a person's rent easily.

"Waw'ick," Nic's deep voice calling his name brought Worick's attention back to his friend, finding that Nic had once again set down his book.

 _'I'm sorry,'_ the signing was curt, as if he didn't want to apologize but felt like it was necessary.

Worick grinned and shook his head before moving to take a seat on the couch. Sometimes, it was nice to hear his friend's voice and it was becoming increasingly rare to hear Nicolas just speak out loud for the sake of doing so. The past few years, Nic only spoke out loud when he felt like he had no other option and the resentment he had for needing to resort to doing so was always apparent. Moments like this, when it was just the two of them, usually Nic stuck within his comfort zone of Sign Language. Hearing his name spoken out loud by Nicolas brought Worick back to when they were kids and he had been coaching Nic on how to say his name. Twenty-two years later and he still couldn't get it right, but it had worked out for the better since it had turned into a damn good alias when he needed to change his first name.

"You know, Nic... Sometimes I miss hearing your voice," Worick hoped his expression conveyed to Nicolas what his tone could not. Nicolas had dealt with a lot of teasing about his speech over the years from various people and Worick didn't want him to think that that was what he meant to do. It was a touchy subject, one of Nic's few insecurities.

 _'Why?'_ Nicolas' eyes had narrowed, brows slightly creasing together as he crossed his arms and waited for an answer.

"I don't know if I can explain it to you. Sometimes, hearing a person's voice is just... it makes you feel better, even if you've had a shitty day." Worick smiled lightly then shrugged, "Especially if it's a friend's voice."

 _'I don't know why. I hate the way it feels when I have to talk like that,'_ Nic signed with a grimace, but he still closed the space between them and took a seat next to Worick on the couch.

"You should have kept at it when you were younger, it wouldn't feel so strange if you had gotten used to it," Worick smiled and began to braid his hair off to the side as he watched Nicolas.

 _'Nobody else could understand me anyway. They said I talk funny."_ Nicolas just shrugged, but there was no frown on his face to suggest the topic was wholly unwelcome.

"Since when do you give a shit about what other people say?"

_'It makes me uncomfortable. I don't like how they stare when I do it.'_

"Well, it makes me think about when we were just two little shits barely making it by on the streets. Back when shit was simple. Just you and me, sometimes ol' Chad telling us to cut it all out." Worick grinned when he saw Nic smirk and shake his head, obviously having the same fond memories now. Sometimes it was nice to just sit back and talk about the good old days like a couple of old geezers.

"Ah mem'er tha'. We wah thill 'earn'n 'ign." Nicolas laughed a bit as he spoke, the sound was rough from the disuse of his voice but it still made Worick smile.

"Yeah, we were both pretty sloppy with the signing back then. Still good times though." Worick replied, forcing the flood of bad memories to the back of his mind and choosing to focus on the good ones only.

They were both quiet for a few minutes, smiling a bit and chuckling off and on as a new memory popped up. It reminded Worick very much of when they were kids. Before they had a place of their own, they had sat side by side just like this in choice spots within an alley. It had been the only alley in the area that had a dip where there had once been a set of stairs and door. It meant they weren't easily seen by someone unless the person actually walked past them and they would be mostly shielded from rain and wind as well. It was the safest place they could find back then.

"Deh 'ou rea'y go dow' ah'der na'ed?" Nicolas had turned to face him with an expression of utter disbelief on his face.

"Yup... I was just about finished when the husband walked in the door. He was pissed! Anyway, I grabbed my clothes and booked it through the window onto the fire escape. Jackass didn't give me time to get dressed before he started shooting at me. Lucky for me he was shit with a gun, am I right?" Worick grinned and slapped his knee as he laughed.

Worick could see Nic was trying not to laugh at this point, one hand covering his mouth as his eyes squinted just a bit, so he decided to push just a bit more, "Lady asked me to end it with a bang. I bet she thought I was damned sexy, running butt ass naked through the alley, hair flowing in the wind. That's the stuff wet dreams are made of, my friend."

 _'Oh yeah, hot stuff? How did the condom get in your hair?'_ Nic was back to signing, laughing quietly to himself as he tried to contain it. It had his shoulders shaking and his lips clamped shut, but Worick knew if he pushed a bit more he'd get a real laugh out of Nicolas.

"You ever run top speed naked? Shit starts swinging in ways they aren't meant to, it ain't good, man. Not like the guy gave me time to pull the damn thing off either," At that Nicolas lost it, hand slapping his knee and the laughter coming out deep and loud, bouncing off the walls of their small home.

Nic's laughter was infectious as always, prompting Worick to laugh right along with him. Perhaps it was because he couldn't hear himself, but when Nic really got to laughing like this it was completely unbridled. It was a deep belly laugh that just couldn't be stopped. Nic's eyes were squinting when he laughed, making laugh lines appear and a big toothy grin would take over his face. It was so rare to see him laugh like that since he usually tried to suppress his laughter since Nic claimed to not like the way it felt.

When Nic finally regained some control he shook his head and managed to sign,  _'You mean to tell me that your junk was swinging so bad the condom came off and landed in your fucking hair? You're shitting me.'_

"You're the one that saw it in my hair! Proof, right there!"

"What was in your hair?" Alex's voice caught Worick off guard and he turned to see that she had just opened the door. There was brightness to her eyes and a smile on her lips, but those blue eyes were watching Nic as he kept on laughing, oblivious that she had come back.

Alex smiled and moved to lean onto the back of the couch behind them, smiling as Nic continued to laugh, eyes squeezed shut as if he were trying to stop and just couldn't. There was always a certain tenderness to Alex's face whenever she was looking at Nicolas and Worick couldn't help but notice it. At first, it had left him feeling jealous. Alex had gone out of her way to be able to talk to Nic even when he had been giving her the cold shoulder. Worick would be lying if he said he didn't find Alex beautiful, but he would also be lying if he said he was capable of the sort of relationship she deserved. Whatever tenderness Alex had toward Nicolas now made him smile a bit. Little by little, he had noticed Nic was softening up towards her as well. It was good for both of them, no matter what it did or did not turn into.

Punching his friend lightly in the shoulder to get his attention, he grinned when Nicolas turned and caught sight of Alex leaning on the couch, "Nic, tell Alex what you found in my hair when I got home."

Nic turned ten different shades of red from his neck all the way to the tips of his ears, all laughter gone as embarrassment took over. He knew that Nic would never say what it had been, but it was still fun to tease the other man. When it came to women, Nic had a shy side that couldn't be missed. It was mainly because he just hadn't had much experience with them in his life. Veronica had been the only one that had made it past that awkward shyness, but that had been it. Besides Veronica, Nic had never really been interested in anyone in that way. Even women they were on friendly terms with like Constance and Joel brought out the shyness in Nicolas. Alex had slowly but surely been working her way past it, but she just wasn't there yet. Worick was sure it would come with time though, most good things were worth a little patience after all.


	12. Making Friends (Part I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a bit short compared to my usual posts. This is part one of this particular little story I've got and I wanted this part to be in Chad's POV. I'm going to go ahead and post this now since it's been a week since my last post and then I'll have part two posted in the next couple of days. Please enjoy :)
> 
> This is set back when Nic and Worick just came to Ergastulum, before Worick was working for Big Mama. I wanted to play around with how the two of them met up with and got on friendly terms with Chad and Joel, so this is my take on it.
> 
> Again, part two will be up in a couple of days.

Chad Atkins had been on the police force since his early twenties. Now a little more than a decade later, he actually felt less comfortable about his duties than he had on the first day of work so long ago. Things within the city and the surrounding areas were bad. The Anti-Twilight riots had caused a lot of damage at the four gates leading into the city, even more so in the cities position just outside the quarantine zone of Ergastulum itself. The rioters were calling for a complete cull of Twilights, wanting them all destroyed once and for all along with the city itself just to be sure. So far, the violence within Ergastulum itself hadn't yet progressed to actual riots, but the protests were getting more and more heated.

This past week alone Chad had been sent to check out the scenes of murder victims in various alleys. All of the victims had been Twilights, brutally beaten to death by multiple people at one time according to the autopsy reports. Even young Twilights had shown up as victims, it seemed the mobs weren't applying any of the morals which surrounded humans to the Twilights. Even the hardest of criminals usually refrained from violence against children, but if that child was a Twilight such notions were forgotten. It was sickening to say the least.

Now he was responding to a tip about what was likely about to turn into just such a crime. He had already left the police car to move down into the alley that was too narrow to drive through. It was one of the narrower alleys that opened up into one of the few markets that would allow Twilights, which made it a perfect place for those of the Anti-Twilight movement to set up and wait.

He could already hear the commotion as he turned the corner and found the scene, thankfully in time before there was another dead Twilight on his hands. There were four normals and what appeared to be a teen Twilight, although it was difficult to ever judge their ages accurately. Chad had seen quite a wide range of birth defects that Twilights suffered from, many of which stunted growth and caused them to appear much younger than they actually were. The main issue with crimes against Twilights was that they had no legal rights unless they were slaves and their owner decided to press charges due to 'property damages'. The average Twilight wandering the streets wasn't a slave nor a member of the mercenary guild, meaning they had absolutely no legal rights. If they defended themselves, the humans attacking them would always have the law on their side. Many of them never fought back besides attempting to run away.

This appeared to the case now, the Twilight was huddled on the ground with his arms over his head protectively and legs tucked in to his chest. There was blood already, but the boy wasn't fighting back. Raising his gun, Chad made his presence known. The humans reacted to his voice quickly, turning to run rather than risk arrest. Chad let them go, knowing that, even if he did arrest them, they would just claim the Twilight had attacked them and they were defending themselves. No amount of evidence to the contrary would ever work in the Twilight's favor. It would be better to run the humans off and do what he could for the boy.

Chad holstered his gun and walked towards the small figure huddled on the ground. He was a young boy, looked to be early teens at the oldest. His eyes were squeezed shut and he didn't uncurl himself, still anticipating the next blow. He was bloody and bruised, breaths coming out in faint wheezes as if the air had been knocked out of his lungs. Chad sighed and knelt down before reaching out a hand to the scrawny arm still protecting the boy’s battered face. While it startled the kid, at least the boy opened his eyes and looked at Chad.

There was a moment of confusion on his face, dark brown eyes glancing around as if expecting to find the group of humans who had attacked him still lingering nearby. The kid looked a bit older in the face than his size had suggested as he sat up and regarded Chad with a suspicious gaze. There weren't any tears in those brown eyes, nor fear for that matter, the Twilight looked as if he cared little that anything had even happened. There was no relief or gratitude, just silent acceptance and the suspicion that Chad would finish what the others had started.

"I'm with the police, kid. I'm not gonna arrest you or anything. Just let me see your tags and I'll see if I can patch you up," Chad offered, reaching out to grip the tags hanging from around his neck.

The boy shrank back somewhat, but the tension bled out of him once Chad picked up the tags and leaned forward to read them. The name on them was Nicolas Brown, no birth date, and they claimed he was with the West Gate Mercenaries. Chad swallowed dryly, surprised to find a survivor from West Gate here. The riots had been the worst in that area, the Anti-Twilight people there were so enraged that they had begun killing indiscriminately. Other than mercenaries hired to quell the violence and the rioters themselves, the area had been completely abandoned to violence. This kid had probably belonged to one of the mercenary troops there that had been wiped out.

"West Gate, huh?" Chad muttered, flipping the tag over to find a mediocre ranking of C4 carved into the back. Actually, it wasn't all that mediocre for a kid of his size, most Twilight children were in the low D rankings.

"Your name is Nicolas? No birth date on your tags... How old are you?" Chad asked before looking back up to meet with a blank stare.

The kid had dark brown eyes, almost dark enough to be mistaken for the same jet black shade as his hair. The skin on him that wasn't bruised or bloodied was slightly tan with a somewhat yellow undertone. His clothes were all a couple sizes too big, likely handouts from someone who had taken pity on the kid. Blood was flowing from his busted nose and his lip was badly split, but at least the blood flow there was slowing down.

"Did you hear me? I asked how old you were?" Chad repeated, trying to sound calm and gentle as the boy's eyebrows furrowed slightly.

Chad frowned as the boy struggled a bit as if trying to speak, the sound coming out as a wet cough before he gave up. He wasn't wheezing bad enough to suggest a punctured or collapsed lung, but there was definitely some blood going down his throat. The boy, Nicolas, lifted a bruised hand to point towards his ear then shake his head from side to side.

It was inconvenient, but not surprising. Chad had been dealing with Twilights for years and he had seen quite a few that were disabled due to birth defects caused by Celebrer. It was the first time he had met one that was deaf, but it certainly wasn't the most debilitating compensation he had seen. The worst Chad had seen was a Twilight that had been suffered with memory loss since he was a small child and would lose hours of memory at random. They had all had some sort of defect from the drugs, some were just luckier than others.

"I don't suppose you can read lips, huh?" Chad tried, making sure he was looking the boy square on.

He had a spark of hope for a moment when Nicolas' dark eyes focused on his mouth as he spoke, but he could tell by the expression that crept onto the kid's face that he was catching bits and pieces at best. It probably didn't help that the kid looked as if he had taken a few nasty blows to the head. He was bleeding somewhere from the scalp, parts of his dark hair growing more and more matted with blood as time passed.

Chad kept his face schooled to neutrality when the boy tried to speak again. At any normal time, he probably would have been able to understand what the kid was trying to say. It was easy to see that the boy was frustrated about the lack of understanding he was getting, as if he were used to people usually being able to understand his speech. But, he had blood going down his throat from a busted nose that was making everything come out with wet coughs.

"Nic?"

The voice caused Chad to turn around and look over his shoulder, finding another kid about the same age as the Twilight standing a few feet away. The kid was bigger, but at a glance he wasn't a Twilight himself. There were no tags hanging around his neck and he carried himself like a human. No matter how confident or well treated a Twilight was, there was always something about them that was off putting enough to make them stand out as abnormal. The boy had shaggy platinum blond hair and an eye patch over one eye. The hickey on the side of his neck suggested he was probably one of the too many child prostitutes in the city.

"You know him?" Chad asked, indicating Nicolas to the blond.

The teen crossed the space between them quickly, kneeling down to get a good look at the Twilight. His hands moved quickly through a series of gestures before the deaf Twilight replied in kind, hands moving fluently through various hand signs. It had to be Sign Language, though Chad had never learned it himself. They both seemed fluent in it, hands moving with the assured speed that could be compared to a native speaker of any spoken language.

When they were done gesturing back and forth, the blond turned toward Chad with a grim expression, "Thank you for helping Nicolas. I had too... do a quick job. I had hoped he would be ok by himself for a bit, but I guess not..."

"Where do the two of you live?" Chad asked, half expecting one of the Twilight friendly brothels to be brought up. While prostitution itself was legal in Ergastulum, child prostitution was not. The ones that hired such kids often were under protection and thus over the heads of local police. They likely wouldn't even blanch at one of their teen prostitutes being dropped off at the front door in a cruiser.

"Nowhere. Can't afford to rent a place..." The blond answered, turning back to look at Nicolas with a somber expression.

"You know, a stray like him would be safe with the guild. I'm sure you have your reasons for avoiding them up until now, but it's getting dangerous for stray Twilights right now." Chad offered the advice with a firm tone, but was met with an equally firm expression.

"Nic isn't a stray. He belongs to me, I have the paperwork if you need to see it. The guild already tried to buy me out of the contract, I'm not interested in that. We'll manage on our own."

The way the young man spoke gave Chad the impression that this wasn't the first time he had explained such a thing in detail, it also left no room for doubt that he meant what he said. Kids like this were only kids in age and Chad knew it. It wasn't very often he came across people like them, but every time he did they always made him do a double take. They were teens that had been forced to grow up too quickly and got with the problem. Plenty of kids buckled under that sort of pressure or simply shut down. Very few would bow up at him like this kid was, ready to fight for what he wanted.

"Alright, I understand. No need to show paperwork. Still, things have been getting bad lately and it's going to get worse. Do you have a place your Twilight could stay out of sight until the worst of it passes?" Chad asked, raising his hands in a placating manner.

"Not that I can think of," was the answer he got, followed by a quick deflating of the confident attitude he had seen just moments before.

"I might know someone that'll let you stay for a bit, though they might put him to work as payment. Honestly, I've been cleaning up a lot of dead Twilights lately and it'll keep me up at night if your friend here shows up in the next pile I come across." Chad gave a dry bark of a laugh, hoping that turning it around as trying to make himself feel better would work.

A few more hand gestures were exchanged between the two of them, likely coming to some sort of agreement about whether to trust his offer or not. He knew very well that he couldn't control a Twilight by himself and the two of them knew it. Even a beat up teen like Nicolas had more physical strength than the average full grown human man. Twilights came with varying amounts of enhanced physical strength and aptitude, but a teenaged boy that had earned the rank Nicolas had was way more than a single police officer could handle. In this case, Chad hoped it would allow them to accept his help. He hadn't been completely spewing hot air when he told the blond that he would lose sleep over finding this kid in the next pile of victims beaten to death by a mob.

"We'll give it a try. But, don't try to pull any bullshit on us. Nic didn't fight back against the mob, but if you try to screw us over I'll give him the order to cut your head off. He won't hesitate," that voice was way too cold and calculating to come out a young man's mouth. The blond had a bit of a baby face, but he was cute enough to likely be very popular with the women that didn't mind paying for an underage boy’s body. But a voice and attitude like that would hardly put a woman in the mood. Chad would have bet big money on this kid being a bit of a chameleon, able to change his tone and attitude to get in good with whoever he wanted to at the drop of a dime. It was a valuable skill to have, if not a bit off putting.

"Her name is Joel, she owes me a favor. Now come on, I'll get your friend there cleaned up and take you to her," Chad offered, knowing that it was a bit of a long shot. In truth, he doubted Joel would take them in if not for the favor. But, the woman tended to be all bark and no bite. She had a granddaughter now anyway, that had certainly helped to soften her up. He watched as the blond helped his friend shakily up to his feet, noting that the two acted more like friends than slave and owner. It wasn't a bad thing. Chad had always leaned toward the sympathetic side when it came to Twilights, especially the kids. He rubbed the back of his neck, "My name is Chad Atkins. I'm an officer here. I know your friend there is Nicolas brown. What's your name?"

"It's Wall-" The boy hesitated then chuckled and flushed in mild embarrassment, as if he had caught himself getting tongue tied with his own name, "Just Worick."


	13. Making Friends (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II of Making Friends. Hope you enjoy.
> 
> I suppose this is mainly inspired by the scene where Nic gives Granny Joel his coat to keep her dry in the rain. That just gave me the impression that despite her gruff way of speaking to them Nic seems to have a soft spot for her. So I thought it would be fun to flesh out how they might have met and used Chad as an intro (Thus the super short part I to this posted last week xD)

Joel Raveau sighed audibly when she looked up to see none other than Chad Atkins at her shop window. The thirty something year old man never dropped by just for the sake of visiting anymore, now he only came when he wanted something. And, of course, she was obligated to do what she could for him. It was the detective's work that kept the local thugs from bothering her after all. She should probably be glad he wasn't crooked enough to ask for protection money, but sometimes tossing a little cash at a cop was much easier than owing favors.

She stood up from her chair and leaned against the counter, finding that the cop was flanked by two young boys. They couldn't have been older than early teens, had to be homeless by the state of their clothing. The larger of the two was a blond with a patch covering one eye, he wasn't bad looking for a kid. Most boys his age would have been covered in acne with cracking voices, but he had either gone through that already or been blessed with skipping that part of puberty altogether. The smaller one had black hair and somewhat tanned skin, although he was bruised and cut up rather badly. Joel smirked at the kid, she could spot Chad's handiwork anywhere. The cop must have found these two kids and patched up the smaller one.

"Good afternoon, Miss Joel. Lovely day, ain't it?" Chad asked, giving her a winning smile and avoiding the obvious scrutiny she was giving him.

"What the hell do you want, Adkins?" She spat, forcing an irritated expression on her face.

"Ah, well... You have a granddaughter don't you?"

She raised an eyebrow at him and glared over her reading glasses, not at all liking where this was going, "She's a toddler now. What about it?"

"Then I suppose you know a thing or two about kids?"

"Obviously, I've had one before. That's generally how grand kids come about. Don't tell me these two are yours? I'm not hiding them from your wife. If you can't keep it in your pants that's your own damn problem!" She crossed her arms, eyeing the blond teen with suspicion. He had blond hair close enough to Chad's, although the other one would have to take after his mother in order for Chad to be the father.

"What? No!" Chad's face grew red and Joel smirked when the man grew flustered, "I found them a few hours ago. They don't have anywhere to stay, the dark haired one is a Twilight. It ain't safe for em to sleep on the streets with the riots and hunts going on. I was hoping you would let them stay here in exchange for helping out around your house and shop. I'd consider it a personal favor."

"A Twilight? What's wrong with him then? They all got problems. If he won't be any help then I don't want to bother!"

"Ah well... He can't hear." Chad muttered, although she wasn't yet old enough for her own hearing to be going just yet. Mid-fifties wasn't old yet, even if age hadn't been overly kind to her in the wrinkle and hair color department the past decade.

"Nic can read lips, if you face him and speak slow. And he can talk," the blond spoke up for the first time, the expression on his face suggesting he didn't like that the Twilight was being talked about like a commodity.

"If that's all he's got wrong with him then that's fine. Ears don't move boxes or clean shit after all. And you, is it just the eye that's messed up for you?" Joel sniffed her answer, mentally weighing out her options.

When the blond just gave her a winning smile and shrugged, she glanced back at the small Twilight boy. He was a bit on the scrawny side, but those dark brown eyes of his were sharp and intelligent. He needed a haircut and a bath, but those were both things which were easily remedied. Deaf was just fine with her, she wasn't much for conversation anyway. As long as he could understand enough to know what she wanted him to do then it would be just fine. It wasn't like Chad would bring her anyone he thought could be dangerous toward her anyway and Twilights rarely bit the hand that fed them. If anything, she needed to be more concerned about the human teen that seemed to be packaged with him.

The blond seemed to read her thoughts and held up his hands, "My name is Worick. I have my own work to do. If you don't mind letting Nic hide out with you, I'll just keep working during the day."

"Oh fine then. I'm sure I could find something useful for the twerp to do. But if causes me any trouble he's out, no second chances!"

"Thanks Joel, I knew I could count on you," Chad smiled, waving as he sauntered off back toward his parked cruiser.

"Thank you again, miss. I'll pay you if I can." The blond, Worick, said with a soft smile, much more genuine than the one he had given her before.

"I suppose you need to run off and get to work then, boy? What was his name again?" Joel asked, eyeing the Twilight yet again as his dark eyes darted from first her mouth then back to Worick's.

"Nicolas is his name. I'll explain to him what's going on than I have to go back to work. Is it alright if I come back tonight? If it's too late then I'll find somewhere else to stay and check in tomorrow morning."

"Fine whatever. Just make sure he understands I'm going to put him to work and he better behave. And don't come banging on my door in the middle of the night. Ain't no mobs gonna bother a normal like you. You won't die from sleeping on the street." She turned on her heel and sat back in her chair, leaving the two boys to discuss what was going on in whatever manner they would. From what she could see of them through the window from where she sat, they were using some form of hand motions to communicate. She'd heard of Sign Language before, but had never seen it actually put to use.

A few minutes later she heard the door to the side of the shop open and the dark haired Twilight slipped inside quietly, coming to stand next to her as if waiting for an order. He was certainly well behaved, likely born into slavery and only recently taken out of that lifestyle if she had to guess. Only a Twilight born and raised a slave instinctively stood in that submissive manner and quietly waited for orders, never impatient and always silent. It made her a bit uncomfortable and yet, eased her mind at having a stranger inside her shop.

"So you can't hear, huh?" She asked, following the blonde’s advice and facing the boy and speaking a bit slower than she normally would.

To her surprise, the boy didn't have much trouble understanding her. Those dark brown eyes watching her lips forming the words before he responded by indicating his ear and shaking his head.

"Can you talk?" She asked after a moment, almost grimacing at the gentler tone of her own voice. It was weakness like that that got a person taken advantage of here in Ergastulum, but there wasn't anyone around to hear it at least.

He flushed a bit then made a sound in his throat before stopping a moment and speaking in broken words, "Ah 'an 'alk."

It was difficult to understand him, he dropped some parts of his words and lisped others quite badly. Not to mention the tone of his voice was off, making it easy to identify as a deaf accent. Still, he was understandable and that was more than she had actually expected. It sounded very much so like it put strain on him to speak out loud however, like he wasn't used to using his voice or perhaps it really just took that much effort.

"That's good then. Well, I can't have you touching my stock like that. It's a slow day anyway. Let's get you a bath then I'll make use of you after you won't leave dirty prints on my stuff" She closed up the shop front after she was done talking, not waiting to see his response.

The boy was certainly a quiet one as far as speaking went and with the difficulty of his speech Joel didn't blame him. But, he did make noises that she felt he probably didn't realize he was making. He made soft sounds that reminded her a bit of someone who might be making a noise that would go along with a shake of their head as she ushered him up the stairs. He certainly didn't like having her behind him, but she didn't exactly care for his preferences. He was filthy and smelled like blood, sweat, and mud. It wasn't at all the sort of smell she wanted in her shop or her house.

The small apartment above her shop wasn't very big. It was just enough space for one person to live comfortably and there wasn't much to clean. Just a kitchenette with a little living room, one bedroom, and a bathroom. It was cozy and it was her home, plus being on the second floor it was less likely to be broken into than a ground floor apartment might. She was actually surprised when the boy had the good sense to take off his dirty shoes outside the door before stepping barefoot onto the carpet. There were blisters and red spots all over his feet, likely because his shoes were too small.

"Alright, you go in here and shower. Use that towel. I'll get you an old shirt to wear while I wash this mess off your clothes," She waited for him to nod and scamper into the bathroom, not at all shy about undressing and giving her his clothes.

He had definitely been a slave. Slave Twilights didn't have the luxury of privacy or decency, they did as they were told and if they felt discomfort by it they masked it with neutral facial expressions. She had seen many Twilights that were slaves when she had been a working girl decades ago, although now it was more common to see Twilights that were independent in Ergastulum or at least in the Paulklee guild. Back in her day, however, that had not been the case. Nine out of every ten Twilights she had met thirty years ago had been slaves.

When she had been much younger, she had resented the slave Twilights used in brothels or by pimps. They were in high demand no matter their looks because they were obedient without the need for pills on the parts of their owners like many human prostitutes required. Joel had been independent and everything she had done had been for money she needed and didn't share it with anybody. She had paid her protection money, everything else was for her to survive with. However, as she had grown out of the youthful grudging nature of her early twenties, Joel had come to pity the Twilights and their slavery. Most of them were so ill-treated and broken in spirit that they had no idea disobedience was even an option. Or perhaps it wasn't one... She had heard horror stories of Celebrer withdrawals after all.

One of the few luxuries she had afforded herself had been her own washer and dryer. It was a cheap stackable set, but it got the job done. She tossed the boy's dirty clothes inside and poured in more than what would normally be needed of the detergent to make extra sure all the mess would be cleaned from them. She walked into the small hall, noting the shower was still running. The hall closet had a box on the top shelf which she eased forward with the tips of her fingers.

It was filled with some of the nicer clothes she had bought her son when he had been a boy, the ones she hadn't parted with as he outgrew them. She had never been much for sentimentality, but it had seemed practical to keep clothing that she hadn't bought cheap for any potential grandchildren. The first one had been a girl, but maybe the next would be a boy? It wouldn't hurt her to part with one pair of pants and an old shirt. Just until she could sew up the various holes she had taken note of in the dirty clothes.

She unfolded and refolded several shirts before settling for one she thought might fit Nicolas' scrawny frame. Pants were a bit harder to judge, but she figured she could punch a hole in one of her own belts to make it small enough to fit his waist if she had too. She set the shirt and pants on the bathroom counter, the boy still hidden behind her tacky floral shower curtain. After she had put the box back where it belonged, she took a seat on the small sofa and flipped on the cheap television. The thing was old and didn't have color, but it worked and she only cared to listen to the soap operas that played later at night. The damn things put her to sleep faster than anything else did after all.

The sound of the door squeaking open made her glance up, finding that the boy looked almost like new after a good scrub down. The shirt was a bit big on him but at least the jeans fit and it was clean, which was what really counted in this case. He actually looked shy as he indicated the clothing and struggled to say what Joel thought might be 'thank you'. She just waved it off, "No need to thank me. I'll want them back after I get your stuff washed up and patched. Now come here, let make sure none of Chad's handiwork is gonna come undone and get blood on those clothes."

Nicolas obediently came over to her, but rather than sitting on the couch he just sunk down onto the floor. It caught her off guard, after all she had patted the seat next to her for him to take. With a frustrated sigh, she tugged at his arm until he relented and moved up onto the sofa with her. Pushing her glasses up her nose, she inspected him quietly. Most of what she found were just nasty bruises, the few cuts there were on his face or hands. Chad seemed to have gotten it right this time for once, although the cut on his forehead looked like it might need to be patched rather than left to the elements. She would just wait and see how it did over the next few hours.

"Bruised, but alright. Did one of them anti-twilight groups get a hold of you, boy?" Joel asked, brushing back the wet bangs stuck to his forehead. Perhaps she should go ahead and just cut it now that it was wet?

Nicolas just nodded, hands fidgeting with the hem of the shirt he wore. At least she wasn't having trouble getting him to understand her, though she suspected he was just picking up key words and hoping for the best. It didn't matter, it was working and that was all she cared about. Pinching at the end of the longest strands of his hair, she lifted it up to test its length. His hair was surprisingly fine and rather soft, but it was too long, "You need a haircut. Come on then, onto the balcony and I'll sweep what falls off from there."

At this he raised an eyebrow, but didn't resist when she tugged him along by the arm. Whether he wanted a haircut or not, he obeyed what she wanted and Joel appreciated it. Actually, it brought back some fond memories of when her own little boy had lived at home, long before he had grown into a man with a wife and child of his own. He hadn't been so well behaved, but the routine of setting out the clothes for the boy to wear and even cutting his hair was pleasant enough. She sniffed when she realized Chad had probably counted on her feeling that way. Of course, she would never admit it to the cop.

Nicolas was reluctant when she brought out the scissors, but relaxed when he realized she was being careful not to get his skin. He looked so much better without the uneven, unruly shag of black hair atop his scalp. If it hadn't been for the bruises and cuts on his face, he would have looked like a normal boy with a family that took care of him. She wondered if he had ever looked so well cared for before? The way he had acted with the haircut, she suspected he was used to someone nicking his ears and scalp with whatever had been used to cut his hair in the past.

"Much better. Now enough of that. I have work for you do, best get to it." She shooed him down the stairs back to the shop where he busied himself with restocking the various types of tobacco she sold, wiping down the furniture, and sweeping the floor. It was actually nice not to have to do it all herself.

When it was time to close up shop after dark, Joel brought the boy back upstairs. His blond friend hadn't shown back up and if Joel was right in assuming Worick's 'work' was prostitution he likely wouldn't make an appearance until morning. Nicolas seemed curious as he watched her prepare Navarin in a pot on the stove, but he never moved past his spot next to the counter that separated the small kitchen form the living room. By the time everything was cooked, she was surprised he hadn't wandered off to sit on the couch or perhaps flip through the TV. But, Nicolas seemed to want an order or permission from her to do anything.

She motioned for him to sit at the small table that was practically wedged in the corner of the kitchen, setting down the steaming plate of food and a fork in front of him before joining him with her own helping. He hesitated and only started eating after she had sighed and waved at him dismissively, tired of needing to walk him through every little thing. Perhaps he was newly out of slavery then? Likely having been freed upon the death of his owner during one of the more violent riots she had seen reported on the TV the past few months.

Nicolas' table manners grated on Joel's nerves. He ate with his mouth open and smacked his food loudly as he shoveled it down like he was a starving dog. While she did mutter about the virtues of eating with one's mouth closes, Joel didn't bother to get his attention. It wasn't like he could hear himself eat and frankly, if he really was that hungry, she could wait until another time to work on manners. So she merely served him up a second helping which earned her a look of adoration from his pair of doe eyes that made her a bit uncomfortable.

He followed her into the living room and sat with her on the couch once again as she flipped on the TV and found a soap opera that seemed promisingly boring enough to help bring sleep on early. Nicolas' interest in the small screen drifted quickly until she felt a small tug on her sleeve. The boy looked at her expectantly before pointed at her and muttering, "nnme?"

"My name? It's Joel." She answered simply, though she repeated her name more slowly when all she was met with was a frown.

Nicolas made a few attempts at saying her name, but she could tell he was quickly getting frustrated and she frankly didn't have the patience to help. With a shrug she merely suggested he try calling her 'granny' instead. Apparently that name had easier sounds for him to put together and he was able to say it in a recognizable fashion. Without thinking, she petted his head affectionately just as she used to do with her own son when he was young and learning to do things. The action took them both by surprise and Joel returned her hand to her lap with a grimace.

They sat in silence for a moment longer before Joel flipped off the TV and stood, moving to the hall closet again before pulling out a blanket and a pillow. Nicolas moved out of the way as she arranged everything on the couch so he had what was as close to a bed as she could manage. Again she was given that doe eyed look, as if no one had ever done something so kind for him before. She had the feeling that Worick likely showed a great deal of kindness to the boy, but a homeless teen could only give someone so much.

It was partially out of habit to tuck the boy in, pulling the cover up to his chin and smoothing back his freshly cropped hair with a wrinkled hand. But, Joel didn't feel warm or good inside for showing such kindness to the boy. He wasn't the first child in Ergastulum to find kindness and compassion to be an alien thing. Joel herself had only experienced it when she herself was the one giving it out. That was much the reason some of her customers claimed she was a grouchy old woman, but frankly her strong, almost aggressive attitude had been the very thing to keep her alive when she had been younger. The city wasn't a kind place, it had no room for compassion when survival was the goal.

She had seen it all too often. The enslaved Twilights were often torn apart, not allowed to keep families together. Children were torn from their mother's arms either for cruel disposal due to being unwanted by their owner or to be sold to the highest bidder on the auction block held once a month in the main market. She didn't dare ask what had become of the boy's own mother. Twilight children rarely had pleasant stories to tell of their parents. Joel had seen much in her time, most of it unpleasant. When she had been a prostitute she had grown used to men being rough and unpleasant, but once every year or so a Twilight man would come to her. They had all wanted the same thing of her. Not sex or anything of the sort. Just an hour of her time to hold them close, petting them like a mother would a crying child. They had been willing to pay what little money they had for just an hour of affection. That had been something that she had never been able to forget. Twilights were a tragic group of people and unlike some, Joel felt a certain level of sympathy for them. Her own life hadn't been easy, but she had always been thankful for what little she did have.

Joel awoke sometime during the night to the familiar sound of a boy having a bad dream. For a moment, she almost forgot her own son was grown and out of the house. She stumbled into the living room, finding a bundle of blanket thrashing about on the couch. Even half asleep she knew better than to startle a Twilight out of a bad dream. Nicolas was small, but even she knew he was stronger than a grown human man at his age. So she flipped on the light and reached out gingerly to pull at the blanket until it fell away from his face.

A few more moments of thrashing about and the typical sounds of anyone in a particularly bad nightmare, Nicolas finally opened his eyes and sat up with a gasp. His brown eyes searched the room for a moment, disoriented before he turned to look up at her. His pupils were dilated and there was sweat on his face. He was breathing in heavy pants and she wasn't sure if the wetness on his cheeks was sweat or tears from the dream.

Joel reached out and wiped at his cheeks as she took a seat next to him on the couch. He flinched at her touch before calming, eventually leaning into her palm like only the love starved could. This boy was pulling at her heart strings, bringing out habits and instincts that she hadn't needed since her own child had grown up into an adult. Joel was glad the blond one hadn't stuck around, she would have never felt so comfortable with herself if another was watching. But, she could tell this Twilight boy was just as unsure about accepting her kindness as she was at giving it. He would likely keep quiet about it, even from his friend.

He rubbed at his eyes which had grown red and puffy, sniffling loudly as he breathed in. It was just too easy to picture her own son there in Nicolas' place, letting the memories of comforting him flood into her mind. She wasn't a lonely old woman just yet, but she wouldn't deny that it felt good to fall back into the role of a mother for the first time in what she hated to admit was at least two decades. Reaching out, she wrapped her arms around the small boy's frame and pulled him close.

He stiffened and pulled back at first, but she just pulled him tighter and he gave in. For a moment it was awkward and she almost gave in to letting him loose, but then he curled into her and tucked his head beneath her chin. He was almost small enough to hold like she had her son when he had been nine or ten years old, still just barely small enough to justify pulling into her lap. But, she didn't go that far, merely held him close as he sat next to her. She murmured quietly that everything would be alright, that dreams were just dreams. He couldn't hear her and with his face tucked away as it was he couldn't read her lips. But, she had to smile a bit when she felt his hands fist into her sleeve and cling to her. Twilight or not, he was just a child that needed to be held close sometimes like any other child did.

 


	14. White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of my readers on fanfiction requested a Striker fic. So I did my best to oblige ;) It's different than my usual stuff, but I hope everyone enjoys it.  
> Read notes for warnings, because there are warnings. This one gets pretty dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so a little author's note with quick warnings and so on and such and such. Unless there is some bit of info I missed (in which case, please feel free to point it out) what little is known of the Destroyer's is, and this is off the top of my head memory speaking here, that they are basically Twilights without the negative effects from Celebrer. Looking over the two translated chapters I could find of Cursed, I'm under the impression that they are basically taken in by whatever organization runs the Destroyer's and pretty much brain washed. So that is the basis for this fic, it will take place while they are going through training as kids.
> 
> So considering that we are talking about a sadistic shadowy organization that basically trains child soldiers to go out and commit horrific mass genocide by the time they are their teens, there will be some warnings. Warnings for brain washing, psychological torture techniques(White Torture and other forms of sensory deprivation), self harm, light mentions of Syrian Box torture, violence, child abuse, ect. None of the torture is explicitly violent, but it is psychological. I only lightly reference the physical torture and self harm.
> 
> Striker will seem out of character at first, but there is a reason for it. I wanted to explore what could make him into the monster he became. So it does get dark.

White.

Everything was white.

Well everything but the things his imagination cooked up to keep his brain functioning. At first, when he had been put into the white room he had thought it would be better than before. After all, they had him completely strapped down and immobile before, with tubes to keep him fed and an IV for fluids and a catheter to handle the waste. Then they had covered his eyes and put head phones over his ears with just white noise and a voice that said the same thing over and over and over and over and over. He had hated that voice, how it had just drilled into his brain until he could hear it even now that everything was silent.

Actually, he missed the white noise and the voice now. This silence was horrible, he kept hearing things that weren't there. The clothes they had given him were white, the floor was white, the wall was white, and there was no sound except what he made himself. The person who brought in his food, which was also white, on a plate, which was white, always wore white and there was a mask of white over his face, his shoes were soft and made no noise. The shoes were also mother fucking white. Talking wasn't allowed, neither was tapping his feet or fists on something to make noise... The punishment for that was four days in the box. He hated the box, it was tiny and when they put food in through the hole it would fall just out reach of his mouth and he wouldn't be able to move his arms. So it would sit there and rot while he starved. Not to mention there was nowhere for him to use the bathroom. Sitting in a box after pissing yourself was awful, at least he could hold the other part of his bodily functions for four days... No, making noise wasn't worth four days in the box.

The hallucinations were getting worse as time passed. He couldn't remember what his name used to be anymore. The people had called him something when they had moved him from being strapped down into the white room. He pulled a few strands of his hair out as he tried to remember... Pulling the hair was stimulating, it hurt but it was something to experience beyond the silence and all the white. Wait, he had been trying to remember something... A name? Was it his name? What had they called him?

Boy.

Maybe that was his name now? Boy. Or was that a state of being? Was he a boy or was his name Boy? He couldn't remember how that worked. His thoughts were a mess and he couldn't focus, couldn't direct his thoughts to anything specific. There were flashing lights in the corners of his vision, but when he turned to look nothing was there but unending white. Sometimes, when the lack of stimulation was at its worst, he would see things that weren't there in the center of his vision and not just the corners. These hallucinations rarely made sense. Sometimes, he would see dogs just standing there without moving, filling the room. Why did the dogs have to be white too?

The boy just kept pulling strands of hair out, eventually realizing there was a bald spot on his head before moving to the other side. It was the only pain he was allowed to give himself. If he made himself bleed, they would put him in the box. He didn't want to go in the box. Suddenly a sound came from behind him and he turned around to glance over his shoulder as the white nothing of the empty room. There was nothing there and there were no speakers in the walls or ceiling... The room was completely sound proofed. He was hearing things that weren't real again. It wasn't even anything specific. He couldn't think of any way to describe the sound. It was just sound.

The last man dressed head to toe in white that brought him his food must have noticed he was pulling at his hair. The next batch of white rice they brought him had to have been laced with something that put him to sleep. He woke up and his hair was shaved very close to his scalp. He couldn't pull at it anymore. They had also replaced the thin white gloves that had been on his hands with thick white mitts. He couldn't use his hands to grip anything anymore and he knew that if he tried to use his teeth to remove them, he would just get days in the box.

He cried as quietly as he could. Noise was bad. Noise put you in the box. He couldn't wipe away the tears or snot, he just let it dry on his face until his skin felt tight and dirty. It was stimulation, so he let it stay there and reveled in the feeling of the dried tears and snot pulling at his skin when he moved his lips. The strange visions and sounds that weren't real were no longer coming and going, now they were constant. All the boy did was sit in the middle of the small four foot by four foot room of pure white and rock himself back and forth. Sometimes he would slip a piece of white paper under the floor, then face away from the door like they required. Then they would throw a hood over his head and let him use the bathroom. Talking to them wasn't allowed then, neither was taking too long. He had to be quick. Do what he needed as they watched then go back to the room. The hood was black, he knew, but the white had bled so far into his brain that it ghosted over into his vision now even with the hood in place.

How long had he been in the white room?

It felt like years, but he didn't know. Maybe it had only been a few days. He had been told that he had only spent four days in the small box, just long enough not to starve to death or to expire from dehydration. It had felt much longer than that. But, it ended quite suddenly. One day, a woman came into the white room and she wasn't wearing white or a mask. He wept when he saw colors for the first time in so long, even though they hurt his eyes. She had touched him with kindness, wiped away the tears and spoken softly to him.

She took him out of the white room and sat him at a small table in a small room, but it wasn't white. He wasn't sure if she was actually pretty or not, right now she looked beautiful to him. Her skin was flesh colored, her eyes were brown, her hair was brown, her shirt was red, and her skirt was black. She was color and that was what he craved so badly.

"I need you to do a few simple things for me," her voice was soft and she could have asked anything of him. He would do anything for the woman that had taken him out of the white room... let him see color again, "First what is your name?"

"My name?" He asked, although the sound of his own voice after so long startled him slightly. He couldn't remember if he sounded the same as before or not.

"Yes, can you remember?"

He tried to think, but could only shake his head. All he remember was white and silence... If he thought really hard he could remember being strapped down and listening to the voice in the static. But, nothing before that.

"Would you like for me to give you a name?" Her voice was kind as she reached out and placed a calloused hand over his own, rubbing her thumb against his skin. It felt so nice to be touched by another person, to know that she was real and not a hallucination. It brought tears to his eyes and he could only nod meekly.

"My very favorite firearm is the Armsel Striker. It's a beautiful weapon really. How about I name you after that? Would you like that? I could call you Striker," She smiled sweetly at him when he just nodded in acceptance of it. Right now, he would do anything to keep her happy with him. She had taken him out of the white room, he didn't want to go back.

The paper was pale yellow, not white... He was so happy the paper wasn't white. There was a man with a clipboard standing behind the woman, scribbling down notes as time went on. The boy... no, his name was Striker... He could remember that. He could remember his own name. Striker picked up the pen and looked down at the paper. Two plus two followed by an equal sign and an empty space for him to write the answer. His mind was all jumbled and he used his fingers to count but he kept losing track of how many fingers he had counted through. Was he holding up one finger or two? Would he be put in the box if he answered wrong?

Panic took over and the pen dropped from his fingers as he gripped his own face and tried to control his breathing. Why was the air so thick in here? He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe!

"Striker, calm down. You won't be punished if the answers are wrong. I just need to evaluate your current level of brain function. Let's try something easier. I am going to time how long it takes you to count to one hundred and twenty. You can use your fingers. Just count out loud for me starting now," She clicked a stop watch and he took a deep breath and started counting aloud.

"One, two, three... two, four, five, six, six, three," He continued on, going over his fingers and feeling fairly confident in doing so. This was easier than the math question. He just had to count one number per second. That would be a good time, it would make the lady with the colors happy, wouldn't it?

"Very good. Note that it took five minutes and forty seconds," the woman spoke to the man taking notes and Striker sucked down a breath. Five minutes? It hadn't felt like five minutes. She didn't seem mad... She had said he wouldn't go in the box for being wrong.

"Striker, can you tell me your opinion of Twilights?" She asked, giving him a soft smile. No one had ever been soft or gentle to him... Or maybe they had, he couldn't remember. He liked her, wanted to make her happy.

What was his opinion on Twilights? He had to think about it. His thoughts were jumping around, floating out of his head before coming back. Oh... He remembered now, when he had been strapped down with the white noise and voice in his ear. The voice had been talking about Twilights and he had overheard a conversation or two about them when some guards they were passing had forgotten he wasn't supposed to be allowed any noise during his bathroom breaks. He wasn't really sure what his own opinion was about them... But, he felt like he wasn't supposed to like them?

"Twilights are a threat to Normals... to... humanity," they need to be killed, "They use their power for their own greed and hurt people that are weaker than them, “they should be exterminated, "I don't like them."

"Very good, Striker!" She clapped her hands and he loved the sound, anything but silence. Anything but white. She turned back to the man taking notes, "The reprogramming was successful this time. He will be ready to move on to training and conditioning."

This time? Had he done this before? He couldn't remember. She sounded pleased, though. That meant he wouldn't be put in the box, right? He really liked this woman, for getting him out of the white, for wearing pretty colors, and she was nice. When they moved him out of the small room after a few more questions, he was glad when the woman walked with him. The colors and noise was almost overloading his senses, he had gone too long without any stimulation. It was almost too much, but the headache it gave him was still better than the white.

"This is your new room, Striker. You'll sleep here tonight," She motioned him inside.

It was bigger than the white room and while dull, it wasn't white. There was a small cot in the corner and a desk with soft yellow paper and crayons. They were going to let him do things to entertain himself. Looking back he noticed the door locked from the outside and panic set in again. They were going to lock him in here and leave him alone to the silence again. It wasn't white, but the thought of being alone again terrified him.

"Wait, don't leave me alone again," He felt hot tears stream down his face as he reached out and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close so that he could just feel another a person there. That was all he wanted... Just another person. Someone to chase away the white.

"I can't stay with you, Striker. It will be ok, I'll come get you tomorrow. You can do whatever you want until then. No one will mind if you make noise or entertain yourself," Her voice was soft, but firm.

Striker felt the strength leave his legs and slumped down, burying his face into her soft middle and clinging tightly to her. He could feel her hands rubbing over his shaven head, soothing and gentle. If she left, he might never see her again. If she wasn't there to stop them, they might put him back in the white room again. He couldn't go back there. It would break him if he had to go back. Or maybe it already had broken him. He couldn't remember. Was he broken?

"Don't cry, it will be alright. I'll come back in the morning. But you have to let go of me. You don't want me to get in trouble do you?" She asked, lifting his chin so he could look at her.

He shook his head. He didn't want to be the reason for someone who had been so nice to him being put inside that box... Not to mention if she was in the box, he wouldn't see her for four days. The thought scared him more than her leaving for the night. Sniffling, he let her go and back away into the small room. She smiled at him and thanked him, but the door closed and locked behind her when she left. He was all alone.

Sleep didn't come to him that night. There was so much noise. Real noise, not imagined noise. His brain was still searching for stimulus and would hone in on every little thing, drinking up the sound and sight like a man in the desert drank water. He wasn't sure how long he cried during the night. It wasn't something he could ever remember doing before. There wasn't even a reason to cry, not that he could think of. But, he couldn't stop it. There was just this overwhelming emotion of fear that the woman wasn't going to come for him in the morning. It kept the tears fresh.

There was a clock on the desk that said it was morning, but she still hadn't come. He paced back and forth in the small space of his room, humming to himself without any real tune just to fight off the silence. He couldn't stand silence anymore. He needed noise, needed to keep away the white. And he was lonely. He hadn't even realized just how lonely he felt until she had come along and taken him out of the white. Now that he could think straight, he felt profoundly alone.

The door opened and he turned around eagerly, feeling joy when he saw her smiling face. He ran to her, clinging to her as he wept again just for not having to be alone anymore. She smelled good, he would be able to pick her out from a crowd if ever needed too. He felt he hands patting his back before she asked him to take a seat on the bed while she sat in the small desk chair across from him. Her hair was up in a braided bun today, it was different and he liked that it wasn't the same as yesterday.

She opened a manila folder and perused its contents, looking up when he asked her what she was reading. He had only asked to fill the silence, but there was also a part of him that didn't like her attention being away from him. However, she merely smiled and held it out for him to read for himself. The folder was labeled 'Subject 575'. The pages were filled with terms he didn't understand, the woman must be very smart to understand all of this. But, he kept scanning until he came to a page that he could understand. It was labeled 'Subject Observation Notes' and was hand written instead of printed like the rest.

_Day 35 of Sensory Deprivation Treatment:_

_Subject shows signs of positive result from continuous looped audio feed of the tapes. Subject now speaks continuously along with the tape, despite being unable to hear himself._

_Day 55 of Sensory Deprivation Treatment:_

_Subject no longer reacts to the people who come in to change medical equipment and other necessities._

_Day 77 of Sensory Deprivation Treatment:_

_Subject was moved from total confinement to solitary confinement. Began reacting to hallucinations within fifteen minutes of introduction to white room._

_Day 88 of Sensory Deprivation Treatment:_

_Subject was found to be pulling hair out from his head, necessary precautions were taken to prevent this._

_Day 105 of Sensory Deprivation Treatment:_

_Subject removed from room and tested for brain function levels. Subject was unable to do simple arithmetic and the time taken to count to 120 was 5 minutes 45 seconds. Subject displayed extreme lack of control over emotional responses along with extreme paranoia. Subject was unable to keep coherent thoughts. Subject displayed child-like reactions and emotions during questioning. Symptoms displayed by Subject were similar to those of prior individuals exposed to extreme isolation and sensory deprivation for extended periods, indicative of severely lowered brain cognitive function._

_Day 1 of Destroyer Training Program_

_Subject displays early signs of attachment and severe paranoia of abandonment and inability to properly react to separation even for short periods. Extreme emotional outbursts without cause throughout night time period._

The notes ended and the rest went on into medical jargon he couldn't understand. It all sounded familiar, but his thoughts kept getting jumbled still and he decided it was best no to think about it. Trying to connect the dots in his mind had been giving him a headache ever since leaving the white room. But... the woman had been nice, maybe she would help him understand, "Who are these about?"

"They are hypothetical, Striker. The person doesn't exist. I invented them as another test, like the ones we did yesterday. Tell me how you feel about the imaginary person in these notes," She smiled at him, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. There was a feeling in the pit of his stomach that something wasn't right, but he didn't want to disappoint her. He didn't want to go back into the white room.

"The person seems... sad... lonely?" He couldn't think of any bigger words to describe it. Actually... it felt like he was describing himself. Was he projecting his own emotions onto this imaginary person? Was he even capable of that?

"Are they sad because they are lonely?"

"Yes, they don't want to be alone anymore. The white bleeds in when nobody is there," He answered, unsure if he is still talking about himself or the fictional person in the notes anymore.

"Are you lonely, Striker?" She asked, reaching out and caressing his face.

He leaned into her touch, any kind of attention from another person. Anything that wasn't white silence, "Yeah..."

"Would it make you happy if I told you I was being assigned as your handler for training? We will see each other every day."

He looked up at that and felt his heart beat rapidly as tears came to his eyes again, "I won't be alone anymore?"

"You won't be alone anymore," She answered even as he crawled forward and laid his head in her lap and wept again. She wasn't going to leave him alone. He wouldn't have to go back to the white or the box. She would be there from now on. He wouldn't have to be alone. Her hand lifted his chin and wiped away the tears as she added, "But, you will have to be good and do what I say."

After that, Striker was allowed to leave his room whenever his handler was there. She told him to call her Miss, but he wasn't sure if that was a name or a title. It didn't matter, his Miss was kind and didn't leave him alone anymore. There were other ones like him, training in the same program but not yet allowed to speak to one another. Their handlers weren't nice like his Miss was. One of them was a girl and her handler had a collar around her neck, whenever she didn't obey she was shocked by it. Another handler would hit and kick his charge. But, Striker's Miss never did that. Not that she needed too. He always obeyed, anything to please her.

He trained in combat and weapons and when he did a good job she would tell him she was proud, hug him close and pet his hair that had started growing back out. He didn't feel the need to pull at it anymore. Miss was more than enough to keep the white from seeping back into his mind. His whole world revolved around her, making her happy, doing whatever she wanted. Even when the handlers began allowing the trainees to mingle together, sparing or taking classes together, Striker cared little for them.

"You do realize that she's faking this, right?"

The voice brought Striker's attention from across the room where he had been intently watching his Miss, making sure she was alright. He glanced at a boy across from him, eating food from his tray. He couldn't remember the guy's name. He was a trainee who didn't get very good marks, his handler wasn't nice like Miss was. But, that wasn't Striker's fault, "What did you say?"

"You must be really stupid if you haven't noticed. All of the handler's know our strengths and weaknesses and play on them. The program broke us down mentally, then paired us with handlers that would play on the exposed weakness. She's nice to you because you're the only one here who cares about shit like being loved. She doesn't love you, she doesn't even like you. It's all to make you do what she wants."

The words hit him hard and Striker felt the air catch in his lungs, he couldn't quite breathe. That was all a bunch of lies, Miss wasn't pretending. He'd earned her love. He had the best scores of anyone in the program. He always obeyed, he didn't need punishment anymore. She was proud of him. She loved him. It couldn't be true that she was pretending. If she was pretending then... he was really just alone again.

"Leave him alone. They obviously broke him somehow that made him this way. It isn't his fault," The girl who spoke up was next to him. They all had short cropped hair, even the girls. But, it was growing out slowly. Striker decided he liked this girl, she must care about him if she would stick up for him. That meant he was less alone than before. He wasn't alone with Miss, but it never hurt to be less alone right?

"He can't be that stupid. We're weapons and he acts like a fucking pet, just waiting on his handler's beck and call. You know what will happen, Striker? One day, you're going to fuck up and she'll dump you for a better trainee. Then you'll be all alone, again." The words were spoken in a low growl.

Striker froze at the words and panic again set in. He couldn't be alone again. There weren't any better trainees than him, he was the best and his scores proved it. His eyes blinked as he registered the next words that came from the other boy's lips, "Maybe she'll take me on after she dumps you. I wouldn't be so stupid to act like a kid with his mommy either. Think she'd let me fuck her?"

Something snapped inside his brain and he lunged across the table, jamming the metal fork he hadn't realized he'd picked up right into his target's windpipe. Everything else melted away as Striker left the fork lodged there then brought his fists down onto the boy's skull. He had moved too quickly for the other boy to respond in self-defense, Striker was completely in control. He was the best at hand to hand combat after all. Blood squished out onto his hands as his last punch caused the bones of the boy's face to collapse inward, brain matter splattering out and onto Striker's face. Some of it got into his mouth and he didn't particularly care for the taste.

He didn't stop though. He just kept at it, pulverizing the corpse beneath him and unable to hear the sounds around him. It was the sound of the Miss' voice that brought him out of the trance and he blinked. What was underneath him could barely be described as a heap of meat and gore much less a human corpse. He didn't care. The boy deserved it. Nobody talked about his Miss like that... Nobody was going to take her away from him. He couldn't be alone again. He just couldn't.

"Striker, come here now," Her voice was low and he knew she wasn't happy with him. Once he told her why he killed the boy she would be though. He was sure she would be happy once he made her understand.

"He just killed my trainee, he isn't stable." It was a man's voice, but Striker didn't look to see. He just moved to sit at Miss' feet and stared down at his blood covered hands.

"Striker is the highest scoring, best behaved trainee currently in the program," Miss was defending him and he felt so happy at that, "Beretta, you were sitting next to Striker. What happened?"

It was the girl that had defended him earlier and Striker felt that she understood. After all, they had all been told that any trainees that went against the program needed to be reported. Problems needed to be eliminated. Twilights were problems, but they weren't the only problems that existed. Striker blinked and realized he hadn't been paying attention to what the girl had said, but everyone seemed to be looking at the corpse angrily instead of him now.

"You did a good job, Striker. Pests have to be eliminated. He wasn't right for the program. We're better off without him," Miss petted his head, calloused fingers running through the short platinum blond hair, "lets clean you up."

When they started doing missions together, Striker found out that he enjoyed putting his training to use. Miss enjoyed it too. Every time he killed a Twilight they were hunting, Miss would clap her hands and tell him how proud she was of him. The more 'creative' he got with a kill, the happier she was. If he did a really good job, she would laugh like he had made a good joke. It spurred him on to do better. To make bloodier kills, to take his time, to make it a real piece of art. All for her, for his Miss. She even rewarded him after one mission he did very well in by taking him to a tattoo parlor, let him pick whatever he wanted. He hadn't known what to choose, so he had let her pick it out. She had really liked the result, told him he looked good with the tribal tattoo on his arm.

"You're handler is dead," came the news through the lockable window that could be opened or shut on his door. He recognized the voice on the other side, it was one of the other handlers.

Panic set in and Striker almost couldn't breathe again, "What happened?"

"She went to visit her family on her day off, Twilights killed them. Her and her family. They're all dead. Nothing left to bury, she had a note in her will to give you this if she died," An envelope fell from the opening, landing on the floor with a soft sound.

The little hatch was closed on his door and Striker crawled forward to pick it up and opened it, finding a note in Miss' perfect handwriting inside. It was only three lines, but it helped ease the pain. He didn't cry, he wanted too, but he knew she hated to see him cry. She always wanted him to smile and be happy. The note was simple, it gave him a new purpose now that his old one of obeying her orders no longer would work. Her last order and he would be happy to oblige. It was simple, Miss always was one for simplicity. She just wanted him to exterminate Twilights.

That was easy. He was very good at killing them and Miss had made it a game, a very fun game. He enjoyed killing them, loved it even. And he wasn't alone. He still had the Second Destroyer's. That was what they were calling the trainees who had survived the program now. He would be put with them from now on. He wouldn't be alone as long as they stuck together. As long as none of them left him, he would be okay.


	15. Where Words Fail, Music Speaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how long it has been since I've posted any one shots. With the anime done for the season and no new English chapters posted in the manga lately I've been lacking in inspiration. I finally got a little burst of inspiration with this one. It's been in the back of my head for awhile, but I suppose it just wasn't ready to be written until now. I'm pretty sure someone has written a fanfic on this subject before, but I want to take a crack at it myself. ;)  
> I apologize for typos. I ran out of time on proofreading and wanted to go ahead and post this. I'll go back through and double check for errors later today. Feel free to giggle at any words i switched with other ones xD

Since Bastard had reopened after the attack, Alex had begun singing there regularly several nights a week. It gave her some money of her own and something to do when the phone in the office apparently stopped ringing. At first, Nicolas had walked her there and back as a favor to Worick. The blond had claimed he didn't have time to do it and sent Nic in his stead, but now the Twilight found he didn't need prodding to make sure she got to work and back home safe. It had become routine.

He had discovered that if he slipped off to the side, over where the speakers were set up, people wouldn't bother him. Something about the place meant people inside have a harder than usual time understanding what he was saying to them. Worick had said it was the general noise of a busy place along with loud music, that Nic sometimes spoke too quietly, and several other explanations Nicolas didn't care to remember. It was just another reason to avoid speaking to people inside the club. Sometimes Ms. Christiano, Marco, or Gallahad would walk by and say hello. They had the decency not to try a long conversation, at least.

Alex wore nice dresses to these nights she sang at the club. Nic could always spot the ones Worick had picked out for her from the ones she had purchased for herself since she had got her first paycheck. Tonight was one she had picked out herself. Actually, her clothes had slowly become more and more modest since she had been getting her own paycheck. Most of her clothes until now had been left over from her days as a prostitute or gifts from Worick. This dress she wore tonight was black, fitting her figure in all the right ways. The skirt of the dress fell to just above her knees, the waist was fitted to show off her hour glass shape, the top of the dress was a high sweetheart cut, the whole dress had a sleeve of black lace over it that gave texture to the otherwise plain black dress. It was very pretty. Showing off her body without putting it on display.

Nicolas enjoyed watching her up there on the stage. The way her eyes would get this dreamy faraway expression and a soft smile would curve at her lips made her seem peaceful and happy, two things he didn't often attribute to people in Ergastulum. She was the first person Nicolas had ever bothered to watch sing. The lips moved differently than they did when speaking so he had always looked away. If he didn't see them then he wouldn't be expected to understand after all. But, he was older now and Alex wasn't some stranger singing for spare change on the sidewalk.

He couldn't read her lips to know the words to the song. But, he liked the expressions on her face and the subtle movements of her hands and head. Sometimes she would get so lost in her singing that she would open her eyes and seem surprised to find an audience applauding another finished song for her. The song she was singing tonight seemed a bit more fast paced than usual, her mouth moving more and stressing certain sounds longer. Nic didn't understand music, it was as foreign a concept to him as the sun was different from the moon. But, he could glance around the club and see that people liked whatever song Alex was singing, enjoyed the sound of her voice. According to Worick, there were good singing voices and bad singing voices. He just assumed it was the same as people saying his speech was bad compared to everyone else's.

With a sigh, Nic leaned back against one the speakers. Another habit he had developed since coming to the club with Alex. He liked how it felt to lean against the big speaker and feel the vibration of Alex's voice wash over him. It helped him follow along, noting the vibrations would change in strength and sometimes feel as if they were being held out and getting softer while her mouth was open and then would stop once she closed her lips again. The vibrations in the speaker were a lot like how it felt to put his hand against someone's throat or chest while they spoke. Everything seemed a bit more drawn out and carried a different cadence than speaking, but it was familiar in that sense.

There was a short break between songs for Alex to drink some water before starting the next one. Nicolas watched as Alex smiled and laughed at something Gallahad said from where he sat at the piano while she drank a few deep gulps of water from a glass. He must have complimented her, Alex only got that blush to her cheeks when someone paid her an unexpected complement. It wasn't the same embarrassed flush as when Worick made a dirty joke at Alex's expense and it also was different from the paint flush that came to her cheeks whenever Nic was alone with her for some reason.

He continued to watch as she returned to the front of the stage. Gallahad's hands were moving around the piano keys again, the start of the music itself Nic assumed. Then Alex's mouth began to move again, those strange yet familiar movements he could almost read but not quite because they were just slightly distorted with how long she projected certain parts of the words. The vibrations of her voice rolled through him from the speaker he was still leaning against, it felt like it was paced a bit slower paced than the last one. She had her eyes closed again through most of the song, avoiding having to deal with the audience and instead escaping into her own happy place as she sang.

Nicolas imagined she must be singing a happy song.

When the show was over, he waited in his usual spot by the door for Alex to be ready to leave. He watched from his vantage point as she spoke with a small smile to Loretta and Marco. He didn't bother reading their lips, it wasn't a conversation he cared to know. Instead, he thought about Nina as he waited for Alex to finish her conversation. She had been devastated when Worick had been thrown from the window of the Monroe estate. He was fine except for a few broken ribs, physically at least, but the little girl had what Nic could only describe as some sort of thing with Worick. It wasn't a crush like a lot of little kids got on the adults in their lives that spent time with them. But, it wasn't the same as how Nina felt towards himself either. It was different, but certainly not in a bad way. Nina worried when Nic was injured, but not like this. Perhaps she was just used to his constant injuries whereas Worick typically avoided injuries?

He made a mental note to bring Nina with him when Alex was going to be singing next. It would cheer her up and Nina had always gotten along well with Loretta. The head of the Christiano family was a couple years older than Nina, but both were mature for their age and had a lot in common. It would certainly make him feel better to see Nina smile again. The little girl had only frowned and looked dead eyed for a few days now while Worick was still kept in the clinic. He knew it was more than just Worick getting hurt. A lot had happened in a short period of time and being the nurse in the clinic meant Nina had seen the worst of it all. The aftermath and all the casualties. She was mature for her age... But, she was still only twelve.

Nicolas blinked when he noticed Alex moving towards him, that uncertain expression that hinted at a ghost of a smile was on her face again. She got that look a lot when looking at him. She still didn't understand Twilights, but she was learning. At least now she understood enough sign language to get basic communication across between them without him having to talk out loud anymore. She also seemed a bit less revolted by how normal humans treated him. She just accepted that they walked the back alleys now, not bothering to suggest just giving it a try or hiding his tags from view. She accepted it now. He doubted she liked it, but she was accepting and that was more than a lot of people in her position would have.

He didn't sign or speak when she gave him a shy smile as she came to a stop right in front of him. Instead, he merely turned and walked out the door. A stealthy glance over his shoulder told him she was right behind him, but the light was gone from her eyes and face. Back to reality. Singing must be her escape from reality. Sort of like reading books was for him. But, reality always had to come back eventually. A person could only escape into fantasy for so long. It was already dark and he could feel that she had closed the space between them, almost close enough behind him to step on his heels if she didn't look down at her feet.

They were half way home when he felt a tug on the sleeve of his jacket and he turned to find her frowning at him slightly. He knew that look. It meant she had been stewing on what she wanted to say for a while and had only just now worked up the courage to say it to him. It bothered him a little that talking to him took so much effort on her part, but he assumed she just wasn't comfortable with him yet. At first, she had been seeking his acceptance. Now, she just seemed to be in a strange limbo where she was uncomfortable with him and didn't know how to handle his presence in general.

"Nicolas... You don't have to stay at the club while I'm singing if you don't want too," She said as her slender hands fumbled through the signs.

He didn't even correct the ones she got wrong. Instead he raised an eyebrow slightly and had to consider how to respond. Why did she think he didn't want to be there? He never did things he didn't want to do. It was a fact about himself that he thought was fairly obvious to people. Unless Worick gave him an order, he did as he pleased. It was frustrating actually... It happened a lot, people not understanding him. Either his speech wasn't clear enough for them to understand, they didn't speak Sign Language, or they were confused by his personal mannerisms. Things he thought he made clear never were. He had given up explaining himself to most people, but Alex lived with himself and Worick. He knew that eventually she would leave Ergastulum and he likely would never see her again, but while she was here he wanted her to understand.

"Ah wahch," He shrugged, trying not to wince at the unsettling feeling of his own chest and throat rumbling and rattling with the sound of his own voice. He really hated that feeling, but he knew it was easier for her than signing with the dim lighting in the alley.

"But, you don't have to if you don't want too... That's all I'm saying," She answered, hands stilling going through the signs. She really was getting better at it, but he noticed she was staring at her own hands and watching herself sign as she spoke. She wasn't confident enough in it to just sign and look at the person she was speaking to yet. That was normal though... He had done the same thing for about a year after Worick had first begun to teach him Sign Language.

Nicolas rubbed the back of his neck, unsure how to really answer her. He really didn't want to explain that he enjoyed watching her sing. It was private thing to him, having to talk about how he enjoyed feeling the vibrations of her singing through the speakers was just too personal. It would bring her in to close. Worick knew and understood it, but he had known Worick for two decades. Worick knew everything about him without needing it explained most of the time. Alex seemed to like talking, having things explained...

With a sigh, Nic decided it would be best to let her work through it herself. He had given her his answer, the one he was willing to give at least, so that should be enough, right? Turning on his heel, he continued their journey back home. Alex was right beside him, always moving from behind him and into the view of his periphery when they reached this area of Ergastulum. With all of the violence lately the normal thugs hadn't been as active, but old habits die hard and she knew if he could see her then he wouldn't let anyone grab her.

There was no more conversation on the way home and he locked the front door behind them once they got inside. Home felt strange with Worick stuck at the clinic, but he had to admit it was a bit more bearable to know someone else was there. It mainly was an issue when he wanted to sleep. He had gotten used to sleeping and knowing that Worick would hear if there was any sort of intruder in their building. It had been a long time since he had slept anywhere completely alone. If he were perfectly honest with himself, if it wasn't for Alex he would have just set up on a chair next to Worick's bed at the clinic and kept watch. But, two people couldn't do that and Alex wasn't safe here by herself.

He made a beeline for the stairs, leaving Alex upstairs to change her clothes. Their conversation had got his nerves up, pent up energy now making him feel jittery. That was normal at the end of the day for him, he never let his Celebrer uppers completely wear off after all. Usually he would just go through a vigorous workout routine before popping his dose of downers and going to bed, hoping he had worked himself into enough exhaustion to pass out before any nausea set in. He changed into a pair of track pants and the black wife beater he always wore under his shirts before starting off with one handed pushups.

By the time he had finished the sets with his right hand and switched to his left, he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up despite the light sweat he had worked up. A glance toward the staircase confirmed his suspicion that eyes were watching him. Alex was wearing one of Worick's button up shirts and a pair of his gym shorts. The clothes were a little big on her, but Worick didn't wear his clothing baggy so it wasn't completely oversized on her smaller frame.

She only gave him a small wave before moving toward the kitchenette just to the left of the stairs, leaving him to continue his workout routine. He switched to crunches after a while, enjoying the pull of his muscles as he began to finally work out the last of that jittery energy that made him feel on edge. All of his muscles felt tight and sweat had dampened his hair. With a soft sigh, he let his back fall flush to the floor and stayed that way for a while with his feet still up on the chair and his hands behind his head. Staring up at the ceiling was oddly calming after working out like this. It was boring to look at which meant he could just enjoy feeling a little tired and blessedly calm.

Another moment and he finally noticed that the air smelled good. Alex hadn't stopped cooking meals even though Worick hadn't been home to eat them for a couple of days now. At first, he had thought that was a bit odd. He had always assumed it was something she did for herself and Worick since they always ate together. It wasn't that they didn't include him, it was more of a self-imposed exile than anything. He had just assumed she would let him fend for himself since there weren't three people to cook for. But, she had kept on cooking and even would sit with him as they ate. They didn't really talk during these moments, but he had enough decency to thank her for it every time.

By the time he had finished taking a short shower and changed into clean clothes, she was spooning the food from a pot into two bowls. It was nothing fancy, just a little pasta with chicken and sauce from a jar. He was at least glad she didn't put too much effort into it. He wasn't like Worick when it came to food. Nicolas would eat anything and old habits die hard. He still ate the same way he had as a kid, scarfing it down as quickly as possible with big bites because he still got that itch in the back of his mind that someone would take it away before he was full. Taste didn't matter. The food could be half rotten and it still wouldn't hit his tongue long enough for him to notice.

She held out a bowl for him to take, a fork already stuck down into the noodles covered in white sauce with a few bite sized pieces of chicken mixed in. He took it with a grunted 'thank you' and retreated to the couch in the far corner. He knew she would follow and sit on the other side just like she had every meal the past few days, but he didn't pay much attention. Nic had a single mindedness about food that he had only barely been able to rein in from horrifying to watch to tolerable by other peoples' standards over the past twenty years of his life.

Normal people savored food. They chewed it up well and quietly, swallowed small bits at a time. Nicolas wasn't normal. He knew no one would take it from him, that few people in the entire city were capable of even trying to do so. But, as soon as he put that first bite into his mouth, his first instinct was to saw his teeth into it and swallow it only partly chewed before going for the next overly big bite of it. He angled himself away from her, not wanting her to watch his bad table manners. Hunching over a bit as he just shoveled it in and kept eating it with just enough chewing not to choke himself.

Alex never made comments about his eating habits, but he knew they weren't good. He could still remember the first time he had understood the way he ate wasn't normal. He had been working with Monroe and had been fed at the estate instead of having to wait until he got home to the small apartment he and Worick had rented at the time. One of the men in Monroe's outfit had reached underneath Nic's chin and popped his knuckles upward, snapping Nic's mouth shut hard enough to bite his own tongue and make it bleed. He had been so focused on the food he hadn't even seen the man move. Monroe had laughed and just told Nicolas to eat with his mouth closed, that he made too much noise. After that, he hadn't eaten around anyone besides Worick and eventually Veronica. Now he could add Alex to that list. It made him a little uncomfortable if he were to be completely honest with himself.

A small tap on his shoulder as he was mid bite made him jump slightly and he turned to look at Alex. She didn't look angry or disgusted, instead giving him a small smile, "Is it good?"

He blinked and stared at her for a moment before nodding, this time when he went back to eating he didn't angle himself away from her.

The food in his bowl was finished long before Alex was even half way done with her own. He didn't go for a second helping despite knowing there would be enough. The last thing he wanted to do was eat too much and just get sick later when he took the downers. Glancing back at her only got him another small smile from her. With a shrug, he washed out his bowl and went straight to his room.

Closing the door behind him, he pulled the bottle of downers from the bedside table and counted out the dosage he required. Theo had once again raised the number of downers prescribed to him daily after Erica had stabbed her sword through his shoulder. The doctor had claimed it was temporary until he was fully healed, but he knew that wasn't the case. Anytime Theo felt he needed to raise the dosage of downers for Nicolas, he always waited until some major injury came along that he could use as an excuse to soften the blow.

He swallowed all of the pills and sat down on the side of the bed. Normally, he would lay down and try to fall asleep, but he felt jittery again and knew that wasn't going to happen. There was too much going on inside Ergastulum right now. Too many big fish making moves in the shadows. People were on the verge of rioting again. Mobs were murdering Twilights in the streets. It was just like fifteen years ago. The prelude to the last bought of Twilight Hunts.

It made him nervous.

Monroe was missing, he knew that it wouldn't be long before Delico gave in and went after his long lost sister. Yang would likely be right there with him. The two idiots would get themselves killed. He wasn't overly fond of either of them, but he had known both of them when they were children. They were the only two men in the entire Monroe Family that had bothered to learn enough Sign Language to speak with him clearly. Worick liked the two young men quite a bit. Nicolas could still remember when Erica had been taken and the orphanage had been destroyed. He had nerves of steel, but dead and kidnapped children still bothered him even if he kept a stoic face.

He blinked and shook his head slightly, rubbing his temples as he chased those thoughts away. None of that was going to help him sleep and he could already feel the downers souring his stomach. It still felt strange knowing Worick wasn't just upstairs, that he was at Theo's clinic instead. It made him feel uneasy. Another sigh escaped him and Nicolas plucked the book from the bedside table and opened it to the last page he had dog-eared. It was enough to help him escape the racing thoughts, but the feeling of nausea kept him from escaping from it completely.

Another half an hour and he was racing to the bathroom to throw up dinner. The downers had him shaking and his mind fuzzy, limbs moving in a clumsy fashion he absolutely hated. Dry heaving came after there was nothing left for his stomach to throw up. When it finally passed he sat back on the floor and let his head fall back against the wall, eyes closed. He still felt sick to his stomach, but there wasn't anything left inside it now.

He wasn't sure how long he just sat there before a pair of warm hands slid across his forehead, brushing back the short bangs that had been hanging down slightly into his eyes. Alex hovered over him with a concerned expression, one hand on his forehead checking for a fever. She wouldn't find one. It wasn't sickness, just side effects to a drug that kept him alive even as it slowly killed him. Her lips were moving, but his brain was still too foggy to read them. He waved her away and frowned when she didn't move, merely let her hand fall to his shoulder.

 _'Sick?'_ She signed before gesturing towards him.

Nicolas honestly didn't feel like explaining so he merely nodded and frowned when she gripped his elbow and pulled him up to standing. He didn't have enough awareness to pull back from her and instead let her half drag him toward his bedroom. Once he laid back down she disappeared and the next time he opened his eyes a cool damp cloth was wiping away the sweat on his forehead. Her eyebrows were slightly furrowed and her lower lip pouted out a bit as she dabbed at his forehead.

It reminded him of Veronica, how she had done this for him before her own body had started to fail her. He remembered how it had felt to do this for Veronica as well, to be in Alex's shoes right now. That he had felt worried and nervous, fear for her as she lay there slowly dying. He wasn't nearly that bad off, probably had a few years before that happened if he didn't die from some fight related injury first. Still, he didn't like seeing Alex frown as she took care of him anymore than he had seeing it on Veronica's face years ago.

He lifted up his hands and signed out a simple,  _'Sing?'_

She looked confused for a moment and he realized she probably thought she had misunderstood his sign. Why should he ask her to sing him a song after all? It was probably not his smartest decision, but it felt right so he simply signed it again and added a little context,  _'Please... Sing a song for me?'_

Understanding came to her face and he felt heat that had nothing to do with feeling nauseous flood his cheeks. It was a childish request and to her he was sure it seemed completely pointless. But, she obliged him and he watched as her mouth began to move with the same exaggerated movements at the club that he just couldn't quite read. Reaching out, he laid a hand against the side of her neck.

She seemed surprised for a moment and stopped, but he motioned for her to continue with his other hand and just closed his eyes. After a moment, he could the vibration of her voice through the soft skin of her throat. It was different from leaning against those speakers in the club. It was more direct and real, not so disconnected. It didn't really feel different from doing so with Worick when he couldn't quite get his own volume right. The only difference was the rhythm he felt beneath his calloused fingers. Soft and slow, not at all loud. Almost like she was whispering her song, the vibration soft like he felt when Worick whispered for him to understand quiet volumes of speech. But, this wasn't Worick and he wasn't feeling just to understand the volume of her voice to match it with his own. But Alex wasn't Worick and she neither was she Veronica. But, she was special just like they were. Different, but in a good way. He smiled a bit to himself at that thought as he finally drifted off to sleep, hand still resting against her warm skin.

 


End file.
